The Jester
by Thalanee
Summary: Jazz, an entertainer at the Lord Prime's court, has fallen in love with Prowl, Prince of Praxus and adopted creation of the Lord Prime. But will they be allowed to be together? A Transformers Fairytale.
1. Chapter 1

The Jester

Author: Thalanee

Verse: AU Bayverse

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 676

Disclaimer: Neither Transformers nor the Song "Der Narrenkönig" by Schandmaul belong to me. Transformers are Hasbro's, the song belongs to the band Schandmaul.

Other Characters: Sentinel Prime, Optimus Prime

Warnings: butchering Jazz's speech patterns, mechxmech

Summary: Jazz, an entertainer at the Lord Prime's Court, has fallen in love with the youngest Prince, Prowl of Praxus. But will the Lord Prime give his son to a commoner?

There's been a flood of Tf fairy tale stories and I decided to jump the bandwagon with this little piece inspired by a favourite song of mine: "Der Hofnarr" by Schandmaul. Also, I must be crazy, as this "little" piece will most likely be the longest story I've ever written (estimated 9 chapters of varying lengths, plus epilogue). This is just an appetizer. Enjoy!

P.S.: Constructive criticism welcome!

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_Possen reißend, Witze machend, ich so manches Herz erfreu'_

_Den Ball jonglierend, Feuer spuckend unterhalte ich die Leut'_

_Des Hofes König, Königin und ihre zarte Tochter_

_Weil ich der Narr des Hofes bin, ein Clown ein ausgekochter._

_Das Kind des Königspaares ist es, welches mir den Kopf verdreht,_

_Bin schwer verwirrt, wenn ich ihr Antlitz, ihre Schönheit, Anmut seh'._

_So kam es, dass- obwohl vom Stande lange nicht berechtigt war-_

_Um ihre Hand anhielt, beim König vorsprach „Bin der Narr."_

„_Meine Tochter willst du, Narr? Wenn Herrscher würden alles geben!_

_Sei König mit Gold Land und Volk, dann sollst Du mit ihr leben."_

„_Ich bin der Narrenkönig, König aller Narren bin ich wohl._

_Mein Volk die Menschen, die gern lachen, und mein Gold mir innewohnt._

_Mein Land ist doch die ganze Welt, wer denn könnte ihr mehr geben?_

_Gib mir Deine Tochter, sie soll fortan glücklich leben!_

_Ich bin der Narrenkönig, König aller Narren bin ich wohl._

_Der Narrenkönig bin ich wohl!"_

_Der Könog, nein, das ganze Volk, lachte ob der dreisten Tat,_

„_Seht, der Narr will König sein!"Ich war Gespött im ganzen Staat._

_So zog ich fort mit schwerem Herzen, fort von meiner Heimatstatt._

_Nur ein Mensch winkte traurig meiner als ich ritt ins Tal hinab._

_So ritt ich hierhin, reiste dorthin, blies mit Trübsal mir den Marsch,_

_bis ich hört' des Königs Botschaft, welche verbreitete sich rasch._

_Die liebst' Prinzessin ist verfallen gar fürchterlicher Depression,_

_wer eilt und sie zum Lachen bringt, der soll sie sich zum Weibe hol'n._

_So will ich denn mein Glück versuchen, wenn nicht der Narr, wer könnt' es dann?_

_Gesagt, getan, so stand ich vor ihr und mein Lied begann:_

„_Ich bin der Narrenkönig, König aller Narren bin ich wohl._

_Mein Volk die Menschen, die gern lachen, und mein Gold mir innewohnt._

_Mein Land ist doch die ganze Welt, wer denn könnte Dir mehr geben?_

_Schenk mir ein Lächeln, Schöne, sollst fortan glücklich leben!_

_Ich bin der Narrenkönig, König aller Narren bin ich wohl._

_Der Narrenkönig bin ich wohl!"_

_So gab ich alles, was ich konnte, spielt mein ganzes Repertoire,_

_und sie lachte, wie sie lachte, das ganze Land am Lachen war!_

_Auch der König musst gestehen, dass ich die beste Medizin,_

_für seine liebe Tochter ich der Narrenkönig bin._

„_Ich bin der Narrenkönig, König aller Narren bin ich wohl._

_Mein Volk die Menschen, die gern lachen, und mein Gold mir innewohnt._

_Mein Land ist doch die ganze Welt, wer denn könnte Dir mehr geben?_

_Schenk mir ein Lächeln, Schöne, sollst fortan glücklich leben!_

_Ich bin der Narrenkönig, König aller Narren bin ich wohl._

_Der Narrenkönig bin ich wohl!"_

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Prologue

Once upon a time the planet of Cybertron was ruled by the Lord Prime who held sway over all the different realms and their rulers, each of them Lords in their own right, yet bound by oath to serve their Lord in all things. In turn, he would protect them from whatever harm might threaten to befall them and with his wise counsel settle any disputes that might disrupt the Peace of Primus.

For countless vorns since Primus gave life to the first Transformers and taught and nurtured them the Primes had guarded the Peace, as they were meant to do by Primus, assisted and protected by their loyal Lord Protectors.

But even so, their world was not a perfect one.

Accidents happen.

So it came that Sentinel Prime took in an orphaned sparkling, whose creators died in a crash, a sparkling who would one day rule the realm of Praxus just like his sparker had. In the vorns to follow the young Prince Prowl soon grew to be as dear to the Prime as his own son Optimus, and despite his quiet and reserved personality, was well loved by the Court.

At the same time, in another part of Cybertron, a hopeful young mech named Jazz left the realm of Polyhex for the great city of Iacon to join the Lord Prime's Court as an entertainer and singer, dreaming of the paths his life might take.


	2. Chapter 1 Bin Der Narrenkönig

Chapter 1: Bin der Narrenkönig

Author: Thalanee

Verse: AU Bayverse

Rating: pg-13

Word Count: 1553

Other Characters: Blaster, a black and white Praxian, mentions of Sideswipe, Sunstreaker and Ironhide

Warnings: Jazz and Blaster mangling the English language (hope I got their accents right… remotely at least)

Summary: Jazz enters the stage

Author's Notes: A great thanks to all the people who read, reviewed and faved (on ) this story (or put it on story alert)! You're great.

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_Possen reißend, Witze machend, ich so manches Herz erfreu'_

_Den Ball jonglierend, Feuer spuckend unterhalte ich die Leut'_

_Des Hofes König, Königin und ihre zarte Tochter_

_Weil ich der Narr des Hofes bin, ein Clown ein ausgekochter._

Playing antics, cracking jokes I regale many a heart

Juggling balls, firebreathing I entertain the people

The court's king, queen and their gentle daughter

For I am the court's jester, a clown, a crafty one

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Jazz had long ago decided that being an entertainer at the Lord Prime's court was the best job a bot could wish for. The silver mech was paid to do what he loved to do most: make other bots laugh. Lifting others' spirits when they were sad and seeing a smile appear where previously tears had fallen made him insanely happy. His azure visor would glow in satisfaction at a funny story or a joke prompting giggles or laughter. Wherever he went he would talk to bots, noble or servant, that didn't matter to him. In short he was a very social mech.

As he made his way through the various parts of the Lord Sentinel Prime's palace -a huge compound consisting of countless buildings, towers, courtyards and gardens- to the little crystal garden he had discovered a short time ago, he let his thoughts wander.

Soon after receiving his final upgrades he had left his home with his creators' blessings to do what he had always wanted to do: be a jester at the Lord Prime's court, where he could meet bots from all the realms of Cybertron, be they groundbound bots like him or fliers, merchant or warriors, medics and scientists. Getting the job hadn't been as easy as a young optimistic Jazz had anticipated. He'd had to work hard to prove his worth as an entertainer, even more so because he wasn't supposed to become one. The caste system reigning in Iacon demanded that he do what his creators and their creators before them had done –which would have meant work as a merchant- or at least do another kind of work acceptable for the middle caste, but Jazz had thrown tradition out the window.

It wasn't his anyway. The bots of Polyhex were a spirited and free minded people who didn't give the caste system much thought. They acknowledged its existence, but nothing more. It held no sway over them, hardly influenced the way people lived or worked. And Jazz wasn't about to let an outdated system of belief dictate how he should live.

The silver mech had his spark set on becoming an entertainer, a jester, which meant singing, dancing, acrobatics, jokes and telling stories. All things he enjoyed very much, but regarding to the caste system, they were "beneath" him. His creators had supported him in ignoring a system he found confining and unfair. When he had come to Iacon he had actually been appalled that some bots even praised a system that was so blatantly and in-your-faceplate unfair.

Yet in the end he had succeeded. He had even found his best friend here at the Court. Blaster and he had hit it right of on their first meeting. What had started as a heated discussion about various music styles, soon ended in a close friendship.

"Yo, Jazzman!" Speaking of Unicron… Jazz grinned to himself while turning to the red tapedeck who had called him.

"Hey Blaster, what's up mech?"

The Musician stopped beside him and threw an arm around the silver mech's shoulders. "Just wanted to ask ya, if you're gonna join the band and me for practice in a couple of joors. There's this new number we want to try out if you're game."

"Sure, I'll be there." Jazz answered. "Out'a curiosity, that new number of yours doesn't happen ta be Sideswipe's?" The mock glower directed at Blaster could have melted walls. Jazz still had to keep from wincing in mortified embarrassment every time he thought of The Incident. An overenergized Sideswipe trying to help an equally overenergized Blaster to come up with new ideas for his show didn't mix well. Suffice to say that cans of paint and glitter and rubber bands had also been involved.

Blaster cringed at the implication. "Do Ah look like Ah'm suicidal? The rampage Sunny went on was impressive 'nough ta make sure Ah'm gonna think twice before doing somethin' like that again."

"Just teasin', mech." The jester grinned broadly, his azure visor glowing bright in amusement.

"Some friend ya are!" The mock affronted exclamation was accompanied by a light shove to a silver plated shoulder. "Actually Ah was talking 'bout that new piece Ah wrote. It's a duet and Ah know your voice would fit one of tha main parts perfectly."

"Say no more, ma friend. I'll meet ya in the concert hall then, but right now, there's somethin' I gotta take care of."

"Ya're sneakin' round the palace grounds again, aren't ya?"

"I'm not sneakin' around, I'm explorin' and I found this nice place a couple o' days ago, I want to visit again." Jazz explained in a reasonable tone.

The tapedeck wasn't fooled in the least. "Just don't get yaself caught. Remember tha lecture Ironhide gave ya?"

A snort from the silver mech was his answer. "'Course I do. Don't worry, man, I've learned ma lesson. Gotta go now, see ya later!" The jester waved his friend good bye and continued on his way to the inner parts of the palace, always taking care to be inconspicuous, because strictly speaking he wasn't allowed in that part of the palace without an invitation.

Being friends with the guards and the servants and occasionally helping them out with their tasks he knew his way around and knew to appear inconspicuous enough not to be noticed. Not that most of the nobles ever looked twice (or even once) at him. When he ventured into the inner parts at all he always visited the gardens hidden there, which were among the most beautiful on the planet.

Jazz favourite though was a little garden he had found only a couple of days ago. It was an exotic little jewel, only made of Praxian crystals in the most glorious colours and fantastic shapes. In between the crystals floated little pockets of azure and sapphire coloured gases and crystal dust, so it appeared as if the crystals actually floated in the sky. Some of them even changed their colour in the course of the day, so it never really looked the same twice. In the middle of the garden overgrown with deep red and green crystals was a little pavillon made of a gleaming white metal. The display was dazzling.

And yet, no one seemed to know about the garden. When Jazz had tried to find out who tended the garden, none of the gardeners knew what he was talking about and thought he was just pulling their legs. Of the other servants there were a couple who knew it existed, but they wouldn't say anything when he asked and only told him to stay away. Not that Jazz listened of course.

His own curiosity wouldn't let him rest.

Taking care not to draw attention to himself, Jazz finally reached the gate at the entrance of the little garden, and was just about to enter when he stopped abruptly.

A faint song could be heard coming from within the garden, and as soon as he heard it the sensors in his audio horns homed in on the sound, intent on catching every single note.

The jester was transfixed. Never before had he heard such a sparkbreakingly beautiful voice. It wove around him, haunting him, soaring in the air. Without consciously having decided to move, his body did so anyway and with each step closer to the source of that heavenly sound the tones rippled across his plating in ever more intensity.

Feeling his spark pulsing in his chassis Jazz surrepticiously crept closer, so as not to alert the singer to his presence and stop bringing forth that wonderful music. Also he didn't want the singer to leave without finding out who he was. Slowly but steadily creeping toward the origin of the sounds without a noise, Jazz finally stopped.

Under a large crystal tree of a pale golden colour, a bot was tending some of the smaller crystals. The black and white bot was small, just a bit smaller than Jazz himself actually and his slender frame was nicely accentuated by the bots smooth lines and curves. A crimson chevron and a few splashes of red and gold perfected the look. What really caught Jazz attention though were the wings that adorned his back: the white appendages gave him an ethereal appearance. Absently he noted that they were gently fluttering in time with the music.

A soft sigh of appreciation escaped the silver bot before he could stop himself.

Abruptly the singing stopped and the mech whirled around (exceptionally gracefully in the jester's humble opinion) to face Jazz. Mesmerized the jester found himself staring into slightly slanted optics of a deep golden colour. They widened when the winged bot saw Jazz.

Their gazes locked…

To be continued.

Ann.: Yes, I'm really into the idea of Prowl having a wonderful singing voice… Hope you liked.


	3. Chapter 2 Das Kind des Königspaares

Chapter 2: Das Kind des Königspaares

Author: Thalanee

Verse: AU Bayverse

Rating: pg-13

Word Count: ca. 2100 words

Other Characters: Sentinel Prime, Optimus Prime, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker

Warnings: None for this chapter

Disclaimer: No, they still don't belong to me, they're Hasbros.

Summary: Prowl would not have believed it if someone had told him this would be the day he's going to meet the other half to his spark.

Author's Notes: Sorry for the long delay, but real life doesn't leave me as much time for my stories as I would like to have. On the other side: wow, over a thousand hits for The Jester, thank you all so much!

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_Das Kind des Königspaares ist es, welches mir den Kopf verdreht,_

_Bin schwer verwirrt, wenn ich ihr Antlitz, ihre Schönheit, Anmut seh'._

The child of the royal couple it is, who turns my head,

Am heavily confused whenever her countenance, her beauty and grace I behold

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To the casual (and the not so casual) observer the face of the future Lord of Praxus showed no emotion. His regal doorwings were held high on his back seemingly without motion, so still that only those who knew him well could see the minute movements expressing the young Prince's annoyance with the councilor currently holding an extensive monologue.

The meetings of the Council of Lords were long and detailed, sometimes to the point of being tedious Prowl admitted in the privacy of his own thoughts, yet they were a necessary evil in the administration if the largest realm on Cybertron. It was here that laws were made, treaties made and wars prevented. The decisions made in these chambers affected not only the realm of Iacon but all of Cybertron. For that reason Prowl was usually highly attentive and focused, but this time he was on the verge of snapping at Councilor Swiftwind to shut up.

"…so it would be in our best interest to increase taxes by a slight percentage. The benefits of such an endeavor would be countless. The lower castes would have further incentive to work harder for the rewards given to them…" Prowl suppressed the scowl threatening to flash across his face. Swiftwind was among a party of nobles who did their best to take full advantage of the privileges the Iaconian caste system provided them, even to the detriment of those under their so called protection.

Prowl glanced to his right, where the Lord Prime Sentinel of Cybertron sat, his imposing navy blue and silver form exuding power and confidence bordering on the arrogant. His ice blue optics followed the councilor's every move while the Prime listened attentively. Yet Prowl knew that Sentinel was just as disgusted as his adopted son by the ignorance of some of these nobles.

To the Prime's right sat his trueborn son and heir, Optimus Prime. Prowl's older brother hid his face behind a mask as he always did in these functions, so no one would be able to read his expressions. The blue and red mech just wasn't as adept at hiding what he was thinking yet. As if he had noticed he was being watched, the future Lord Prime turned slightly, meeting Prowl's gaze and winked an optic, before turning back.

"Enough," the deep voice of Sentinel Prime rumbled, "We have already discussed this matter extensively, and you have been told in no uncertain terms not to waste this Council's precious time, until you have new arguments to support your claims. So far I have heard none. Is there anything you wish to add that has not been heard already?" His voice and manner was deceptively calm, yet it was obvious that Sentinel was not pleased.

Swiftwind seemed to have recognized the tone as well, for he cringed and apologized profusely. "No there is not. Forgive me, my Lord, for speaking out of turn. Be assured that I have only the wellbeing of the realm in mind." If not for his self discipline Prowl would have snorted. He sincerely doubted Swiftwind cared for anything but his own purse.

Rising from his throne, the blue and silver Prime stopped the onslaught of words that would have followed without acknowledging the unfortunate noble any further.

"Since this was the last point on the agenda, this meeting of the Council of Lords is now adjourned. You have your tasks." He turned from the assembly to the Princes. "Both of you are free to spend the rest of the day as you wish. I expect you in my study tomorrow at the usual time."

Optimus and Prowl bowed to their sire and leader as protocol demanded and left the council chambers together, followed by their guards. Ironhide and Kup stayed close to the future Prime, while Sunstreaker and Sideswipe watched over the Praxian.

As soon as they were out of the council chambers and away from most of the nobles, Optimus dropped his face mask with a loud sigh. "That was one of the most boring meetings we've ever attended." He stated matter of fact. "How do you do it?"

The black and white raised his golden optics to look at his older brother. The two of them were a study in contrasts: Optimus was smaller than their father, but the blue and red Prime still towered over him, the younger didn't even reach chest height. His doorwings made up for what he lacked in height giving him a regal appearance equal to that of his brother's imposing form. "Do what?" he teased with a perfectly straight face, as if he didn't know what Optimus was talking about, despite the fact that they had this particular conversation after every council meeting.

Optimus grinned, playing along. "How do you and our sire sit there, listening to the drivel some of the councilors are spouting and actually look interested in what they're discussing. You don't twitch, you don't grimace, you don't laugh, pit, you don't _fall asleep_!"

A sly smirk appeared on Prowl's face. "So that is what you do behind that facemask of yours?" he tsked, wagging The Finger at his older brother. "Shame on you, Optimus Prime."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Optimus replied innocently, ignoring the faint sounds of suppressed laughter from their guards, before he pointed an accusing finger at the other. "Admit it, you're not really at those meetings, it's one of your holoforms who's sitting in you chair, while you are of in your library or you garden!"

Prowl merely raised an optic ridge in answer. He was loath to admit that he had actually toyed with the idea once, but in the end his own sense of duty had prompted him to dismiss it. Also, the range was simply too far…

"I have no idea what you are talking about." He replied smoothly, using Optimus' own words. They continued their lighthearted banter until they went their separate ways, Optimus to see his intended sparkmate Elita and Prowl to his private quarters.

The silver and golden forms of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker fell into step beside him, as they always did instead of two steps behind him as the strict Iaconian protocol would have demanded. The halls of the palace grounds were bustling with life and noise, everyone was busy preparing for the upcoming festival that would begin in a few cycles. Servants rushed through the corridors, laden with decorations and other provisions, messengers were sent hither and thither bearing invitations, gossip and other tidings so important to the more social mechs and Court politics.

Craving some peace and quiet the doorwinger made his way to his suite, deep in the innermost parts of the palace. Originally the wing had been built to house visitors from the Praxian royal family, but upon his adoption by the Prime it had been renovated and reserved for Prowl alone. Only Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, as his guard, and Tome, his Praxian tutor, and Silversong, his old governess, also lived there. Contrary to the more blocky style of the rest of the palace the Praxian wing was an airy and open structure, consisting of many pavillons and little towers connected by open bridges. It was in fact a miniature Praxus and Prowl loved it.

"So," Sideswipe piped up beside him, once they had arrived, "the library or your hiding place?"

"You do not have to follow me around everywhere as long as we are in the private wing, Sideswipe." Prowl stated. "And the garden is not my hiding place, it is just private." He added almost as an afterthought.

"But we're your guards," the silver mech mock gasped, "we're supposed to follow you everywhere! Meetings, tutoring, fighting lessons, showe-" Before he got any further his golden twin cuffed him in the head lightly.

"Will you stop that," he growled, attempting to glare his brother into behaving, but considering that this was Sideswipe he might as well not have bothered. As it was they descended into one of their bickering matches while Prowl stood and watched in amusement what he had come to think of as his own private soap opera. The twins were not just his bodyguards they also were his closest friends.

Where others had kept their distance due to Prowl's elevated rank and his very reserved personality, the twins weren't bothered by it and soon treated him as an honorary little brother. Sunstreaker gave him painting lessons now and then, even though Prowl wasn't very good at it, and Sideswipe had happily dragged both of them with him on some of his infamous pranking sprees. Suffice to say that whenever he had managed to persuade Prowl to forget about dignity or decorum they had never been caught. The Prince's favourite so far had been gluing the Court Healer's many wrenches to the ceiling after painting them all a lurid, opticwatering lime green. Ratchet had not been amused. In fact his screams of outrage were heard all over the palace.

"Enough you two," Prowl said, when Sideswipe tried to hide behind the doorwinger, putting the black and white between his twin and himself. "I will spend the rest of the day in the garden. Please do not offline each other in my absence."

"Have some faith in us, Prowl," the silver twin snickered.

His brother just grunted. "I'll promise nothing. If you'll excuse me, there's an empty canvas with my name on it." Without further ado the golden warrior retreated into the direction of his studio where he produced some of the finest paintings on Cybertron.

Allowing a soft smile to appear on his face, Prowl made his way to the furthest end of the Praxian wing, where a small garden was hidden, away from the bustle and noise of the rest of the palace. It was small but exquisite and it was Prowl's. No one else was allowed there, apart maybe from the twins and Optimus, but even then only with expressed permission.

Prowl tended the crystals, brought over from Praxus when the wing was given to him, by himself, not allowing the palace gardeners to lay even a single servo on it. When he did not have to study or attend his other duties as a Prince, he came here to read or sing. Working with the crystals, planting new ones and watching them grow, nurturing them was one of his greatest pleasures.

Taking his time he watered the crystal flowers and bushes and pruned the growing crystals so they would not hinder each other in their growth. All the while he sang softly to himself, sometimes humming, sometimes singing snatches of text or just vocalizing the melody, something he never did outside his quarters or garden. Again it was only the twins and Optimus who knew he even could sing.

Gently gathering the newest crystal which would grow into a silvery flowerlike bush he searched for the perfect spot to plant it. He found it under a tall, pale gold crystal tree and kneeled down to prepare the ground. Digging a small hole he filled it halfway with a special mixture of fillings, a fertilizer especially for crystals and then carefully placed the delicate plant inside, covering its base. Afterward he leaned back slightly to regard his work, when a soft, nearly inaudible sound caught his attention.

Someone was behind him! Startled he quickly turned around.

There just a few steps away stood the silver form of a mech. Shoving aside the obvious question as to how the bot had managed to sneak up on him without a sound, he cautiously studied the other. His silver frame was sleek and strong like that of a racer. The strong legs and broad shoulders made for a handsome appearance that was complimented by the spiky sensor horns rising from his head.

When he looked at the mech's face his optics were caught by the azure visor, the gaze of which seemed to be riveted on him.

Their gazes locked…

To be continued.


	4. Chapter 3 Schwer Verwirrt

Chapter 3: Schwer Verwirrt

Author: Thalanee

Verse: AU Bayverse

Rating: pg-13

Word Count: 6100 words

Warnings: none for this chapter

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, I only wish they did… Seriously, if they did, do you really think movie-Jazz, G1-Prowl and TfA-Prowl would have died? The song "Dein Anblick" belongs to Schandmaul (an English translation is given at the end of the chapter, for the sake of the argument let's say it's just a different dialect)

Other Characters: Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, Optimus

Summary: An argument isn't the best way to become closer to someone, but it's a start.

Author's Note: These things seem to be getting longer and longer… Just to make it more clear: a cycle is a day, decacycle means week, orn means month and a vorn is a year (I know that's not really correct, but I use them like this).

"…" speech

`…´ bond talk (twinbond, sparkbonds)

::…:: comm. talk

If you want to listen to the song here's a link (just remove the empty spaces):

http: / www. youtube. com/ watch?v= vpVIyV9LfhM

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The two bots stared at each other in disbelief.

Prowl had most certainly not expected to be caught on his knees in the dirt, caring for the crystals he had planted and -what was even more mortifying for him- singing softly. Caught up in what he was doing he hadn't even noticed the other mech's approach. How long had the other bot been standing there anyway?

Unsure what to say he simply let the silence continue, while the silver mech, who was taller than he the prince absently noted, opened his mouth several times as if about to speak, before deciding against it and closing his mouth again. The longer they stared at each other the more Prowl became aware of a strange fluttering sensation in his spark. Never before had he felt something like that, so it was disconcerting to the reserved bot.

After a few more minutes of silence the Praxian decided he had had enough. "I do not wish to insult you, but I would advise you to stop that." He tilted his head. "You look like a cyberfish."

An indignant snort came from the other bot. "Thanks for tha compliment, mech. Ya really know how ta flatter a bot, don't ya." He drawled.

Internally Prowl had to hide a wince. Never before had he heard anyone mangle the Cybertronian speech like that (apart from Ironhide, of course, but the Guard was an exception to many a rule). His voice was pleasantly deep and caused his spark to flutter even more, yet his face didn't betray how unnerved he was by his spark's reaction to this unknown bot, remaining set in what he called his "court mask".

"I did not intend to compliment you, but if you wish to take it as such you are welcome to do so." Prowl responded in his most haughty tone of voice, unconsciously flaring his wings in an attempt to appear bigger than he was. "However I would ask that you explain your presence in this private garden." The garden was his, a private place he retreated to when he wanted to be alone, to escape from the demands of protocol, whenever maintaining his "court mask" was becoming too much. To be disturbed here in his sanctuary by this unknown bot, when he desperately wanted privacy, rankled deeply enough for him to be deliberately rude. How dare this stranger intrude on _his_ garden? And how did he cause this strange pull in his spark?

The other seemed taken aback by Prowl's arrogance and held up his hands in a gesture meant to be placating. "Hey, there's no need for that, mech."

"No need?" Prowl actually hissed. Absently he wondered where his usual self control had disappeared too, but he didn't really care. "This is _my_ garden! I demand to know who you are and how you gained entrance to this place." Standing straight he ordered the other in his most authoritative tone of voice, acutely aware of the light scratches and the dirt on his usually pristine armour, and glared at the intruder, daring him to refuse the prince.

Meanwhile the jester couldn't help but stare transfixed. The other looked really cute when he was angry, all blazing gold optics and flared wings. The silver mech couldn't take his optics off of him even if he wanted to. He did nothing to suppress the cheeky grin the doorwinger's outburst had prompted. Being the cause of that look on the beautiful creatures face tickled him, actually. He couldn't help but wonder how much more he could rile the other up. "Make me."

That made the other pause and boggle at Jazz in astonishment. "Excuse me?" And as incredulous as he sounded he hadn't heard that before. Well, there was a first time for everything.

"I said, make me," Jazz retorted cheerfully, cocking his hip to the side in a stance of pure attitude. "And it says nowhere that this place is private." He added.

Wings twitching erratically, the smaller bot looked at Jazz as if he had grown another head. It was impossible that the other didn't know. Wasn't it?"The locked gates say it is private. The walls surrounding this wing of the palace say it is private. Entering here is expressly forbidden by palace rules." He growled stalking nearer and poking the jester in the chestplates. "So. What. Are. You. Doing. Here."

The silver mech looked down his nose at the other. He was really enjoying this, but something told him that he shouldn't go farther. After all he didn't want the other to hate him. It would be pretty detrimental when he asked the other out, after all, which was what Jazz intended to do very soon. "I might ask tha same, if it's really so forbidden."

"I am not obliged to explain myself to you," he scoffed. "Leave now, before I call the guards to remove you from the premises."

Slowly it dawned on Jazz that purposefully irritating the other might not have been one of his better ideas. If the garden was really that private, the other had every reason to want him gone. Also small details started to register. Despite the dirt and the scratches the black and white's chassis was obviously very well cared for and of high quality. His manner of speaking indicated high rank and this wing was deep in the inner parts of the palace. Evidently the other was of some rank and Jazz didn't want to be kicked out by the palace guard. Ironhide would hand him his aft if he got into trouble again.

"Look, I'm sorry, ok?" the silver mech took a step back, "I didn't know this place was private and I sure as pit didn't wanna intrude." Hopefully the other would forgive him, he really wanted to get to know him better, possible differences in rank be damned. Because, unbeknownst to Prowl, he had felt the strange pull in his spark to. Knowing what it meant he was determined to get to know the other better.

The black and white's face smoothed back into the mask he had worn earlier. "Apology accepted." He replied curtly, his voice flat. "Now please leave."

Realizing he had screwed up, the jester deflated a little, but he wasn't about to give up that easily. Never before had a bot captivated him like that and he would be damned if he would let the singer slip through his servos without even trying to hold on to him. "Alright." He acquiesced. "But could ya answer at least one question please?"

While the other contemplated his request Jazz tried his best to look as pitiful as possible, his processor already busy making plans how to court the exquisite bot in front of him. First things first, though. "That depends on the question." Was the hesitant answer.

"It's nothin' bad, I swear," his cool demeanor vanished into thin air, nervousness taking its place, "I just, well, I won'ered, what's ya name?"

Blinking in surprise the other answered without thinking, "My designation is Prowl."

Prowl. In his processor he repeated the name over and over again. Prowl…Instantly he decided that it was the most beautiful word he'd ever heard. Unbeknownst to him a blissful grin had spread on his face. Somewhere he had heard the name before, but right now Jazz couldn't be bothered to remember where, since he was far too happy to finally know Prowl's name.

"Well, sorry to have disturbed ya, Prowler," the jester quipped before he suddenly leaped up onto the crystal tree and from there onto the wall surrounding the garden in flowing movements. Up on the wall he stopped, turned and offered an effusive bow to Praxian. "Don' worry, I'll be back!" With a two fingered salute he bounded off the wall onto the other side and danced his way through the palace to meet up with Blaster, his processor happily humming away at various seduction techniques. Only a few minutes later did he actually realize that he had his sight set on the younger creation of the Lord Prime himself.

XXXXX

Prowl stared at the part of the wall where the silver figure had disappeared to, surprised that his spark gave a sad twinge at the silver mech's departure. Despite of his earlier insistence there was some part of him who had actually wanted the intruder to stay. Absently one of his servos came to rest upon the plates that hid his spark chamber, rubbing at them lightly. To say he was confused would have been putting it lightly.

He didn't know what to make of the strange feelings in his spark and to his surprise he regretted being so rude with the other, even if he had startled him and entered without permission. But the other had said he'd be back, hadn't he? His spark gave a happy surge at the thought of seeing the silver one again. The doorwinger sincerely hoped he had meant what he'd said.

So caught up in his own thoughts was he, that he didn't realize he wasn't alone anymore, until Sideswipe stepped in front of him and poked his noseplating.

"Hey, you alright?" The silver hellion sounded worried and started to look like it even more when Prowl was visibly confused by his presence. "I called your name a few times and you didn't even twitch!"

"Do you want us to call Ratchet?" Sunstreaker was openly frowning at the Prince, arms crossed in front of his chest plating.

"No," Prowl hastened to reassure them, "nothing is wrong. I am fine, I assure you."

The twins didn't buy his act for a single moment. Sideswipe just snorted in disbelief while Sunstreaker merely raised an optic ridge. Both looked at Prowl expectantly, obviously waiting for an explanation. When none was forthcoming, Sideswipe continued to press Prowl for an answer.

"Come on, you stand there in the middle of your garden, looking like a lost turbopuppy, rubbing your chestplates, as if you're hurt and you expect me to believe that?" Prowl was grateful that his self control had decided to return from its impromptu vacation, because the silver guard had a point. "Besides I thought I heard voices, yours and someone else's."

"I am fine, Sideswipe," Prowl repeated, "I was just tending the crystals… and singing."

Still not entirely convinced, the twins shared a short conversation over their twin bond and decided to leave Prowl alone for now, but watch him closely from a distance, close enough to be near in case of trouble and far enough that he wouldn't notice them. They would ask him again later. And if he didn't tell them, then they would just sic his older brother on the black and white. Even if Prowl wouldn't talk to anyone else about troubles, he'd always confide in Optimus.

"Alright, we'll leave you alone, but you'll call us if something's wrong."

"Your concern for my wellbeing is appreciated, but you need not worry." Fluttering his doorwings once, a sign for the twins that he really was fine, he let a tiny, barely there smile appear on his face. "And yes, I will call you, if there is something wrong."

Appeased (at least slightly) the twins left Prowl to his own devices in the garden. Again the Prince stared at the part of the wall the silver one had disappeared over and prayed he would be back. Belatedly he realized that although he had given the silver mech his name, the bot had not offered his own in return.

XXXXX

Four cycles later found Prowl in his garden again. Lessons with Tome, council meetings and sessions in which the Lord Prime introduced him to the finer points of ruling a realm had kept him from being there for more than half an hour at a time before. So far there had been no sign of the silver mech's presence (Prowl had searched the whole garden, just to be on the safe side, he told himself, but found nothing).

Sitting beneath the very crystal tree where they had first met, he continued to wait all the while singing softly to himself and watching the spot on the wall the silver one had disappeared over. Prowl wasn't sure why he was waiting for the other to turn up. He didn't know him, didn't even know his name, yet he was drawn to the creature who had dared to stand up to him without a second thought. His processor kept replaying the others words, images of the cheeky grin kept creeping back to the forefront of his mind whatever he did.

It was annoying really. The doorwinger huffed to himself, his white wings twitching in anticipation. Two hours later, when Prowl had to leave for dinner in the Great Hall, there was still nothing. With a deep sigh, the Prince stood up, unaware that his wings were noticeably drooping on his back, unaware that two pairs of blue optics were watching him with concern, only focused on the inexplicable feeling of sadness in his spark.

XXXXX

Dinner in the Great Hall was held once a decacycle. It was an ornate and noisy affair, something Prowl would usually avoid at all costs if he could, but his presence was demanded by protocol. It was one of the things that Sentinel Prime insisted on, that at least once a decacycle the whole royal family should make an "informal" appearance outside of council meetings, audiences and festivals.

Each time the hall was filled to the brim with guest from all parts of the city and the realm, singers and entertainers, both from the Court and hired for the occasion, would delight the guest with their talents. For the occasion the Hall was decked out in brightly coloured drapes made from fine metal threads and bright lights in matching colours. The feast would last for hours filled with (more or less boring) conversation.

Usually Prowl would entertain himself by watching the crowd (the ways some of the minor (and the major) nobles tried to outdo each other- be it with optic-catching or rather optic-watering paintjobs or recounting tales of one's supposed prowess- were so ridiculous that they were fun to watch), bantering with the twins over comms or just talking with his family or Tome. Today though Prowl just wished he could stay in his room.

For a moment he seriously considered feigning sickness, but Ratchet wouldn't be fooled, and would surely tell his sire and brother about it. Then they would ask why he pretended to be ill and the Prince seriously didn't think they would believe him, if he said he didn't feel like going. The Prime would have a fit and Optimus would needle him to confess what was wrong. And what was the doorwinger supposed to say anyway?

That he was disappointed the mech who had previously broken into his garden hadn't shown up again like he had promised? That he would do anything to see a mech he didn't know anything about again? That his spark gave happy pulses at the thought of said mech, and constricted painfully at the very idea of never seeing him again?

Yet Prowl couldn't bring himself to feel appalled at his overly emotional behavior as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Dressing up was part of the dinner and as usual Prowl's frame was wrapped in swaths of white fabric made of metal threads so fine it was almost see-through, flowing from his hips to the floor, the pieces around his upper arms fanned out slightly, forming a pair of sleeves. The rest flowed down his back like a cloak, framing his wings. Golden glyphs denoting Prowl's name and rank were stitched into the fabric.

All Prowl could think about was what the silver mech would think if he could see the doorwinger like this. Disgusted with himself Prowl turned away from the mirror and left his rooms for the feast, with the twins close behind him. What was wrong with him?

Unbeknownst to the Prince Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were mulling over the same question. They had noticed Prowl's unusual behavior, the anticipation he displayed every time he rushed to the garden and the dejection whenever he came back from his beloved garden, when before he had always returned happy and relaxed.

`What do you think could have happened?´ Sideswipe asked his twin over their bond without displaying any hint of doing so, grinning like he always did.

`I don't know. The garden is well protected, but it's still possible someone got in.´ Sunstreaker replied, his face set in his usual scowl.

`But if someone broke into the garden, why didn't Prowl call us?´ The red twin sounded as confused as his golden brother felt.

`He's not injured either, so we can't sic Ratchet on him.´ They both glanced at the figure walking in front of them, wings held high, their droop only noticeable to those who knew Prowl well.

`He could be hiding an injury for all we know. He's adept at doing that and we both know how much he hates medbay. You've seen how often he touches his spark casing! And I can tell he doesn't even know he's doing it.´ His twins worry for their friend flowed back and forth in their bond.

The golden mech mulled over the facts for some time, before speaking again. `There's only one thing we can do, really.´

Sideswipe knew exactly what he meant and winced slightly. `Prowl won't like that.´

`I don't care. It's the only way. We'll tell Optimus there's something wrong with his little brother. If anyone can get Prowl to open up and confess what's bothering him, it's his older brother.´

As if he had been summoned by the mere mention of his name, the future Lord of Iacon joined them with his guards at the entrance to the Great Hall. His silvery white sash and cloak served as an optic-catching contrast to the red flames on his blue chassis, the effect very pleasing to the optics. Optimus seemed to be Primus own definition of a charismatic leader, something the young mech wasn't entirely comfortable with at times.

"Ready to face the dinner crowd?" Optimus asked, while offering Prowl his right arm.

"As ready as I will be," Prowl answered, taking the offer and letting a smiling Optimus take hold of Prowl's left hand and place it in the crook of his right. Arm in arm they entered the Great Hall, announced by the herald. As they took their seats everyone bowed or kneeled depending on their rank, and only rose once the princes were seated next to each other on the Prime's right. On their sire's left sat an ambassador from Altihex, with whom the Prime was deeply engrossed in conversation.

Soon the energon was served, as were various other dishes like rust sticks, goodies, various shakes and even vintage high grade imported from Vos, the flying home of the Seekers, a realm with close ties of the realm of Praxus. The young skylord Starscream had once brought a copious amount of cubes with him on a visit to Iacon as a gift. Ever since those had run out the Court regularly imported cubes from Vos via Praxus. As a result of their contact Starscream and Prowl had actually become friends.

Maybe writing the seeker would help him sort his thoughts? If nothing else the jet's blunt answers might help him, Prowl mused while absently sipping at his cube. Thoughts turning from the letter to its silver subject matter Prowl never noticed the way Optimus stiffened slightly in his seat, when he received the twins' formal request for a private comm.

Whenever the twins adhered to protocol so strictly it meant there was something wrong. Silently granting the request, Optimus threw a sideways glance to the silent Prowl. That the Praxian was this silent wasn't all that unusual, yet the way he stared into nothing, fiddling with his cube was not. Rarely had he seen the black and white so unresponsive. If he didn't know better he'd say Prowl was daydreaming.

:: Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, what's wrong with my little brother?:: he demanded to know at once.

:: We don't know, my lord. He's been like that for at least for days now, but we haven't been able to find out what's wrong. We don't think it's anything physical, but we can't be sure about that.:: Sunstreaker explained.

Raising his cube to his mouth to hide the frown now visible on his face for all to see, Optimus took a small sip. :: Was there anything out of the ordinary, something that could have disturbed him?::

There was the slightest hint of hesitancy before Sideswipe spoke up. :: It started four days ago, I think. He had retreated to his garden, you know how he loves to muck about there, and at one time we thought we heard something, but Prowl was alone. My lord, he didn't even notice us, not even when we were calling him and he was touching his spark plating. He's been rubbing at it constantly ever since, and he keeps spacing out at odd times.::

Now Optimus was really worried. A glance at the smaller black and white revealed that he still hadn't touched the contents of his cube. :: What does Ratchet say about this?::

:: He doesn't know, Prowl hasn't gone to see him and we couldn't persuade him. That is why we thought it was time to alert you. I think you're the only one who can get him to talk about whatever bothers him.:: Worry tinged the transmission, but Sunstreaker's golden frame didn't even twitch, displaying no outward sign that there was anything wrong.

:: Thank you for bringing this to my attention, twins. I'll take care of it.::

Relieved the twins could be heard to thank him and wish him good luck, before the line between them went silent. For the rest of the evening Optimus kept most of his attention on his younger brother, surreptitiously looking in his direction. He might as well not have bothered to hide what he was doing for all the attention Prowl paid his surroundings.

Lost in thought the Praxian kept twirling the contents of his cube, taking a sip once or twice. Optimus' concern grew even greater when Prowl didn't so much as look at the small cube of Vosnian highgrade he indulged in once in a while. Some of Prowl's attention was still in the room, enough so that no one who wasn't actively looking would notice that the prince was only going through the motions, while he kept wondering about the silver one, and the strange and yet wonderful feeling in his spark.

Absently he let his gaze wander about the room, watching the present mechs in the faint hope of catching the glint of light on silver armor or the glow of a blue visor, but for naught. Yet his optics kept sweeping the crowd, listening more closely to the commands of his spark than those of his processor.

He didn't expect his vigilance to be rewarded, but it was.

Golden optics widened when he caught sight of a familiar looking frame mingling with bots he knew were entertainers the court had hired, singers and dancers, storytellers and jesters, musicians and acrobats. Was the silver mech one of them?

Gasping at the sudden, almost painful surge his spark gave when he realized he had found the one he had been looking for, one of his hands clutched his spark plating. The sheer power of the feeling in his spark almost frightened him.

Something of this must have shown on his face or in the movement of his wings, because suddenly Optimus was by his side and gently maneuvering him out of his seat.

"I think it would be better if we retired. You're obviously not well, Prowl."

Stiffening, Prowl hastened to reassure the taller mech. Now that he was finally close to the silver one again he couldn't leave! "I am fine, Optimus, I assure you there is nothing you need to worry about. Whatever it was has passed."

A knowing look was directed at the hand still hovering over the black and white's chassis. "No, it hasn't. I can see it." He frowned. "Please, Prowl, you know you don't have to hide it when you're not feeling well. Our lord father will understand if you excuse yourself from the festivities for once."

"No," Prowl almost exclaimed, then lowered his voice so that only Optimus would hear him, "let me stay until it is over. If you still insist, I shall visit Ratchet tomorrow to alleviate your worries."

Not quite trusting the other's reassurances the blue and red prince was that short of just slinging the smaller one over his shoulder and carting him to the court's medic, but the almost desperate expression on his stoic brother's face stopped him short. Prowl seldom asked for anything, and when he did, he usually had good reason or it was something important to him. "I will grant your request, if you will grant mine."

Prowl cocked his head to the side, thinking. "Agreed. State your terms then."

The future Prime smiled. Prowl could be so literal sometimes. "You will let Ratchet look you over to see if whatever ails you has physical reason, and you will talk to someone about what bothers you. It doesn't have to be me, but I would feel easier knowing there is someone helping you."

Those golden optics focused on him, before Prowl nodded. "We shall talk tomorrow then, after the cycle's work has been completed."

Pleased with his achievement, Optimus placed a loving kiss on his brother's chevron and returned to his own seat, motioning to his father, after a questioning look from the Prime (who had noticed what had transpired) that all had been dealt with. With a short nod the ruler of Iacon returned his attention to the conversation with the ambassador.

Worried that the silver one had disappeared during his argument with Optimus, Prowl looked around and was relieved when he found the object of his thoughts almost exactly where he had been before, deep in conversation with a red mech Prowl knew was one of their best musicians.

For the rest of the evening Prowl never looked away.

As if feeling Prowl's optics on him, the sliver mech turned, letting his own visor sweep the crowd until he looked straight at the Prince. When he grinned broadly and his visor blinked on and off in a wink, Prowl couldn't fight the slight blush. Still, he didn't look away.

And when the silver mech's turn came to sing and perform with the others, no force on Cybertron could have moved the prince from his seat.

XXXXX

It took all the formidable self- control Prowl had not to take of running to his garden, as soon as the festivities were over. But knowing that his brother was worried already, the black and white restrained himself until the door to his quarters closed behind him, leaving him completely alone.

He didn't even bother to get out of his elaborate court clothes like he usually would, he just wanted to reach his garden as fast as he could. To say that appearance was a minor concern would have been a dire understatement. In all his haste to get to his destination he didn't even stop to think why he was so eager to see the other again, Prowl just knew he had to meet the silver one again.

As soon as he stepped out of his rooms he knew his wish had been granted. The notes of a song were drifting through the air, coming from the direction of the large tree where he had first met the other. It was the same song, the silver one had performed at the feast, all the while looking at Prowl. Somehow the prince knew the song had been directed at him.

_Hätte ich einen Pinsel zu zeichnen Dein Antlitz,  
>den Glanz Deiner Augen, den lieblichen Mund.<br>Ich malte die Wimper, die Braue, Dein Lächeln,  
>wie ich es erkannte in jener Stund´.<br>_

Slowing down, Prowl walked closer, listening to the music. But when he was near the tree there was no one to see underneath it. Confused, Prowl stopped under its glittering branches and looked for the source of the sounds so close to him.

_Hätte ich eine Flöte zu spielen die Klänge,  
>die von Deiner Anmut und Schönheit erzählen.<br>Ich spielte den Reigen der himmlischen Tänze, wie in den Gedanken, die mich seither quälen._

_Doch weder Bilder, noch Klänge, noch Wort,  
>könnten beschreiben, was an jenem Ort,<br>mit mit geschehen, als ich Dich gesehen,  
>Du in jener Nacht, den Schein hast entfacht.<br>_

A slight movement caught his attention, prompting him to look up. There on top of the wall sat the silver mech, waving at him. I a fluid movement he slid down from his perch and landed in front of the prince, still continuing the serenade. Prowl stalled when the silver mech held out one of his servos, as if asking him for a dance. Hesitant, Prowl placed his own servo in it and let himself be led in a slow dance. He couldn't bring himself to worry about how illogical this was.

Jazz for one was ecstatic, that Prowl had accepted. During the split moment it had seemed that the prince would refuse the dance Jazz had held his intakes. At the feel of the white servo in his own his spark had decided to bounce of the walls of its casing in joy.

_Die Sonne, die Sterne tragen Kunde von Dir,  
>jeder Lufthauch erzählt mir von Dir,<br>jeder Atemzug, jeder Schritt,  
>trägt Deinen Namen weit mit sich mit<em>

Almost against his will a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. But he couldn't help himself. That strange feeling in his spark was back and he realized how badly he had craved feeling it again. Even though he had no idea what it meant, he somehow knew it was supposed to be there. The way their fields meshed, wove into each other as if they had done so countless times before felt too right, not to be meant to happen.

_Hätte ich eine Feder zu schreiben-die Worte,  
>die dich umgarnen wie silbernes Licht.<br>Ich schriebe von Liebe, von Nähe und Hoffnung,  
>und schrieb die Sehnsucht hinaus in das Nichts.<em>

_Doch weder Bilder, noch Klänge, noch Wort,  
>könnten beschreiben, was an jenem Ort,<br>mit mir geschehen, als ich Dich gesehen,  
>Du in jener Nacht, den Schein hast entfacht.<br>_

When the silver mech returned his smile, Prowl would have vowed that his own spark was skipping in his casing at the sight. They continued their slow, unhurried dance through the small garden, completing the circle under the tree. Azure visor glowing, the silver mech finished the song, never once looking away from the other.

_Die Sonne, die Sterne tragen Kunde von Dir,  
>jeder Lufthauch erzählt mir von Dir,<br>jeder Atemzug, jeder Schritt,  
>trägt Deinen Namen weit mit sich mit...<em>

Separating they stood facing each other. For what seemed an endless moment there was silence between them, before Prowl spoke. "I wished to apologize for being so rude during our first encounter. Despite the fact that you startled me such behavior was uncalled for. Please forgive me."

"Aw, never mind, Sparkles." Jazz chuckled. "There ain't nothing ta forgive, I did intrude on your me-time."

Confused, Prowl tilted his head to the side. "Sparkles? I fear you are mistaken, my name is Prowl. I was sure you are aware of that."

"Course I am, but Sparkles is ma nickname for ya."

"But I still do not know your name." Prowl answered.

It was Jazz's turn to be confused. He almost asked, but going through their conversation, he realized that the lovely doorwinger was right. He had never introduced himself before disappearing… Sheepish he rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry, kinda slipped ma mind last time we talked. Well then," he paused, bowing theatrically in front of the prince and bestowing a kiss on one of the other'S servos, "ma name is Jazz, entertainer extraordinaire from Polyhex. Ya might have noticed that I can sing and dance," he earned himself a chuckle from Prowl, who raised his hand to his mouth in order to hide the tiny smile on his face, "An' I'm no slouch when it comes to acrobatics… wait, what's that?"

Following the line a silver claw was pointed at, Prowl turned but he didn't see what the other meant. When he turned back Jazz was closer than before, one servo raised to Prowl's chevron and picked something up… and then Jazz presented Prowl with a beautiful little crystal flower!

Astonished Prowl half moved to touch his audio, but thought better of it, instead taking the offered flower with a softly spoken "Thank you."

Inspecting it closer he realized that it was a kind of flower he didn't have in his garden yet. And the crystal was so well preserved, he would be able to grow it. A real smile bloomed on his face.

"And that's what I'm best at, what I want ta do…make bots smile and laugh." Jazz spoke up.

"It sounds like an admirable goal in life."

"Glad ta hear ya think so," A large grin threatened to split his face plates. "Say, there's one thing I always kinda wondered about?"

At Prowl's questioning look he continued, visor wide with fake innocence. "Are all those optics watering colours most nobles here seem ta like so much a requirement for tha job or do they do that on purpose to give each other optic glitches?" It was hard but he managed to keep a perfectly straight face.

One of Prowl's hands flew up to his mouth and the prince's frame shook slightly. For a moment Jazz was worried, but then Prowl actually started laughing outright. Jazz grinned happily. It was a sound he hoped to hear much more often in the future.

They continued talking far into the night, and if anyone had been close enough to listen, they would have heard the soft sound of laughter rising from the little garden.

To Be Continued

Author's Notes 2: I know, Jazz's joke was kind of lame, but I'm too braindead at the moment from lack of sleep to come up with something better… and it's been so long since I last updated, that it will have to do.

Tell me what you think?

As promised, a translation of the German lyrics:

If I had a brush to draw your countenance,

The sparkle of your eyes, your lovely mouth,

I'd draw the lash, the brow, your smile,

Like I saw it in that hour.

If I had a flute to play the tunes,

That tell of your grace and beauty,

I'd play the roundelay of the heavenly dances, like in the thoughts that plague me since then.

Yet neither picture nor sound or word

Can ever describe, what in that place

Happened to me, when I saw you,

You, in that night, this glow have kindled.

The suns, the stars give tidings of you,

Every gentle breeze tells of you

Every breath, every step carries your name far with itself.

If I had a quill to write the words,

That ensnare you in silver light,

I'd write of love, of affinity and hope

And write the longing out in the air.

Yet neither picture nor sound or word

Can ever describe, what in that place

Happened to me, when I saw you,

You, in that night, this glow have kindled.

The suns, the stars give tidings of you,

Every gentle breeze tells of you

Every breath, every step carries your name far with itself.


	5. Chapter 4 Meine Tochter Willst Du?

Chapter 4: Meine Tochter willst Du…

Part I

Author: Thalanee

Verse: AU Bayverse

Rating: pg-13

Word Count: 6100 words

Disclaimer: Still not mine, sorry, I only write about them for the fun of it.

Other Characters: Optimus, Ratchet, OC Heatspot

Warnings: Kissing (do I need a warning for that?)

Summary: Jester and prince spend more and more time with each other, and the bond between them deepens.

Author's Notes: Took long enough, but there you are ^^ The chapters for this story tend to be a lot longer than those of my other stories, so I divided this into two parts. The next part will probably take some time though.

I hid a reference to another of my fics here… can you find it? ;)

XXXXX

_So kam es, dass- obwohl vom Stande lange nicht berechtigt war-_

_Um ihre Hand anhielt, beim König vorsprach „Bin der Narr."_

„_Meine Tochter willst du, Narr? Wenn Herrscher würden alles geben!_

_Sei König mit Gold Land und Volk, dann sollst Du mit ihr leben."_

_So it came, that I- though by class not entitled in the least-_

_Asked for her hand in marriage, called on the king "I am the jester."_

"_You want my daughter, jester? Lords would give everything!_

_Be a king with gold, realm and people and you shall live with her."_

XXXXX

It was perfectly quiet in Prowl's crystal garden, a welcome respite from yesterday's lively feast and the hectic day to day work that filled his cycles. Maybe Prowl was onto something with his garden, Optimus thought not for the first time, inhaling the fragrance of the crystals while he relaxed in his chair.

Optimus could feel this day's stress bleed away the longer he sat in these peaceful surroundings, his spirit feeling renewed. Idly he thought about getting a garden of his own, Elita would certainly relish the opportunity to just spend time with each other outside of the court, only the two of them. Of course the palace had numerous gardens, but there was always someone around, even if it was just guards or servants. Sometimes the two wanted to be alone. He wouldn't be able to tend it himself, but maybe…

Yet, that was not why he was here.

A glance in the direction of the black and white prince proved to the future Prime that he had been right. On the surface Prowl looked as calm and collected as ever, if it were not for the slightest twitch in the white doorwings and the way he kept rubbing at the ruby plates that hid his spark- casing. This uncharacteristic behavior worried Optimus more than he wanted to admit. Because if there was something wrong with Prowl's spark, there was virtually nothing to be done but pray to Primus that it was the kind of damage a bot could live with. If it was not, not even the best medic on the face of Cybertron would be able to save his younger brother. For all the Cybertronians' advanced technologies, for all their knowledge and skill, their sparks, their source of life, were still a great mystery to them.

Minor damage the medics had learned how to deal with of course, if it was confined to the spark casing, but if there was something wrong at spark level, not even Ratchet, the best medic on the face of Cybertron would be able to help.

Watching Prowl stare off into space, his golden optics fixed to a spot underneath one of the crystal trees, Optimus came to the conclusion that he would have to start the conversation. Wherever Prowl was with his thoughts, he wasn't in the here and now with Optimus.

Contrary to what Optimus thought, Prowl wasn't that far away… in fact, his thoughts kept circling around the last evening and the time he had spent with Jazz sitting underneath the tree, just talking about anything and everything. Prowl had been delighted to discover that there lurked an intelligent processor and a sharp wit underneath the sometimes overly excited exterior of the jester. Yet even that exuberance was appealing in its own way.

Despite, or because of (as Prowl himself thought), being one of the princes, he rarely had the chance to really _talk_ to anyone outside the family or the few friends he had. Most bots talked to the prince, not Prowl himself. And when they did, mecha were always exceedingly polite, careful not to show what one of the nobles had once referred to as "undue emotionality".

Of course there were exceptions to the rule, like the twins who, apart from Starscream and his trine, were the only real friends he had. Then there was Ratchet, who dented even the Prime's head with one of his wrenches if he felt Sentinel deserved it for doing something the medic considered stupid. But they were all exceptions, which made the way Jazz spoke with Prowl so openly even more precious.

Because he behaved exactly the same as he did, when they first met, when Jazz hadn't known who Prowl was yet. Jazz didn't talk to the prince. He talked with Prowl.

He had never laughed as much as last night when Jazz had joked with him, teased him and told him stories about the facets of the court Prowl never saw. Prowl's sides had hurt when Jazz told him about the fearsome head cook, who apparently could give Ratchet a run for his credits, and the time she had caught the jester red-handed trying to steal some of her freshly baked goodies and chased Jazz through the kitchen. Smiling to himself, Prowl repeated the silver mech's name. Jazz…

The sound of someone clearing their vocalizer brought the Praxian back to the present, where he found his brother's blue optics watching him closely. Aware now that he had been rubbing his chestplates again, he lowered his hands to his lap and clasped them there, turning his attention to Optimus.

"Will you tell me now what ails you?" There was a hint of worry to the red and blue mech's tone that even Prowl could catch.

"I believe I already told you that there is nothing that ails me, brother. I am not harmed in any way."

"And yet you persist in rubbing your chestplates. You have never done that before. Also you are strangely absent- minded lately, to the point that even the twins have begun to worry. Are you sure that you are not hurt?" Optimus took one of Prowl's hands in his own, belatedly realizing how much smaller his younger brother actually was. Both of Prowl's hands could have easily fit in a single one of his own.

"I am not hiding an injury, if that is what you are implying." Somewhat affronted, Prowl sniffed. "That only happened once and Ratchet made abundantly clear what he would do to me, should I hide injury and pain from him again."

"Can you blame him?" The future Prime replied drily. "You had to remain in Ratchet's care for weeks because that cut got infected. He was just worried. So was I."

Prowl had the grace to look somewhat abashed, looking at their still joined hands while he replied. "Forgive me. I was not trying to make light of your concern."

"I know that, Prowl. Just want to be sure. Will you consent to letting Ratchet examine you?"

"If you remember our conversation yesterday evening, you will recall that I gave you that promise already. Once I give my word it stands." Prowl reminded him.

Optimus chuckled, standing to offer Prowl his left arm. "And if you will recall the previous times you had to report to the medbay for your regular check, you will recall the various and creative ways you employed to give Ratchet the slip." He teased gently. "His cries of frustration were audible throughout the palace."

A smirk that could only be called smug tugged on Prowl's lips, when he took the offered arm and they made their way to the medic's domain. "How else will dear Ratchet have the opportunity to further sharpen his reflexes?"

The lighthearted banter continued all the way to the med bay of the palace. The term med bay was slightly misleading however. It should more correctly be called a medical wing, since it consisted of scores of rooms: some of them light and airy, where convalescing patients could spend their time or receive visitors, private berth rooms for rest, the medics' offices, examination rooms, and further back even a couple of operating rooms. In short the "med bay" was a full- fledged miniature hospital.

And it was firmly in the hand of Ratchet, Chief Court Healer, who insisted that anyone who was sick or injured, regardless of rank should present themselves in his domain. Some of the nobles had voiced objections against this, but the tender mercies of the court healer had persuaded them to either keep their opinions to themselves. After the first five nobles had been whacked in the head with a wrench or had very uncomfortable exams, the rest had soon learned that in this wing of the palace, Ratchet's word was the law.

And going to one of the lesser healers didn't help you any.

Ratchet had trained them all.

Thus it was no surprise to the two princes when the first thing they heard after entering the med bay was a voice uttering curses that would make the most hardened warriors' armour peel (which was a good thing actually, it was when Ratchet turned quiet that you should start to worry… and run).

When Ratchet noticed their approach and turned to watch them, literally gaping in astonishment, the hapless mech that had fallen into the medic's clutches took the opportunity and ran when the chartreuse mech wasn't looking. Ratchet was far too busy to stare at the apparition in front of him.

"Who the frag are you and what in Primus' name have you done to the real prince?" he blurted out, pointing at the black and white, prompting an optic roll from the younger and a poorly hidden snicker from the older prince.

"Very amusing Ratchet."

"Thought so myself," Ratchet drawled, "now tell me who did what to trick you into coming here, so I can go see if I can use that same trick in the future."

"I came here out of my own free will…" A disbelieving snort escaped the medic upon hearing that statement, "on account of a promise to my brother."

At the reminder of the cause of their visit, the smile vanished slowly from Optimus' expression replaced by obvious worry. This change didn't escape Ratchet, neither did the fact that Prowl had voluntarily come to med bay, something he would usually avoid at all cost, promise or not.

"Let's go to my office then and I can tell me why you're here." Gesturing to the two princes to follow him, he led them to his office, which was a little medbay in and of itself. On the right-hand side stood Ratchet's desk, the top of which had long ago vanished under the heaps of medical datapads and journals in the medic's possession. Despite the utter chaos the chartreuse mech never had trouble finding anything in a matter of seconds. The patient records however were neatly kept in a locked terminal and the medical area to the left of the room was so clean it almost sparkled and in perfect order.

Gesturing for the prince to sit on the berth in the medical area, Ratchet resisted the urge to scan Prowl immediately, considering this was one in two instances where the doorwinger had actually sought him out instead of being bodily carried or dragged to him.

"Ok, spill. What's got you so spooked that you voluntarily came here?"

"I am not spooked, merely uncertain. I am sure there is nothing wrong, but Optimus insisted on making sure that there was nothing to worry about."

"Uncertain?" Blue optics narrowed as Ratchet disbelievingly repeated the word. "In face of your penchant for gross understatement I'd say your brother is right. So?" Arms crossed he waited for the younger mech to start talking.

A quizzical look and a pointedly raised optic ridge were the only answers he got (discounting the badly hidden snicker the future Prime of Cybertron couldn't quite stifle in time).

Sighing, the medic gave in and phrased his inquiry. He knew when it came to sheer stubbornness he had met his match in the young doorwinger. "So what are your symptoms? Does anything hurt?"

"No," Prowl said, his wings flapping in what was the Praxians' equivalent to shrugging one's shoulders, "but sometimes I have a strange feeling in my spark."

At that last part Ratchet suddenly stood perfectly still, all his senses and scanners actively trained on Prowl now, prompting the other to squirm slightly at the tingly feeling of being scanned. "Your spark? You feel something strange in your spark? And you come only now?" Swearing the medic called up the results of his preliminary scans. When he found nothing he ordered Prowl to lay back and pulled out one of the more finely tuned scanners, specifically designed for this very purpose.

Prowl endured the examination and the muttered curses with equanimity, knowing that as long as Ratchet was still swearing you were still fine. It was when the medic turned gentle and concerned that one should start to worry. A very pithy phrase, uttered when Ratchet returned the scanner to its original location, ensured Prowl that he was still safe.

"I couldn't find anything wrong on the scanners. Physically speaking your spark is as fine as ever." He growled, then rubbed his chin pensively. "Describe that feeling you mentioned as exactly as you can, please."

Uncertain how to phrase his explanation, he decided to put it as simply as possible. "I am not sure how to describe it… it is a fluttery sensation. Sometimes it feels like a pull, as if it were trying to jump out of its casing. It is not painful, just strange." Almost out of habit his servo had risen to touch his plating over his spark. As soon as he realized Prowl aborted the motion and nervously touched his ruby chevron instead. He was sure that Optimus had caught the gesture.

"The fluttering is constant? Sometimes stronger, sometimes weaker?" Ratchet's tone suggested that he had an idea of what might be causing those symptoms and was now trying to confirm his suspicions.

Golden optics blinking, Prowl nodded. "Yes."

"And when you feel that pull, does it feel like your spark is spinning faster, like it is trying to reach out for something?"

Prowl could only nod again, as he felt his wings start to twitch in agitation. How in the name of Primus could Ratchet know all this?

Optimus couldn't keep still anymore. Rising to stand beside his younger brother he questioned the medic. "You know what it is?"

Snorting Ratchet glowered at both of them, both fists resting on his hips. Was it Optimus' imagination or was there an amused twinkle in the blue optics? "Of course I do, and I'm surprised you don't recognize the signs he's describing too."

A look of dawning realization appeared on the red and blue mech's face. "You mean…?" If Ratchet meant what he thought he meant, then Optimus vowed to himself to help his little brother in any way.

"Yes, I do."

"Forgive me for interrupting your discussion, but would you care to share your insight with me?" Prowl piped up somewhat tartly.

"Sure," Ratchet replied breezily, "what you're experiencing, your Highness, is called spark synchronicity. Have you ever heard of it?" When Prowl shook his head the medic continued with his explanation.

"You know that most of what pertains our sparks, our source of life, still is a mystery to us. We know how sparks power our frames, we know how to strengthen a weakening spark. We know that our sparks in combination with our processors make us who we are. We know what happens when two sparks merge and create a newspark, but we don't know how or even why that creation happens. That is one of the many things that still remain a mystery to us."

For a moment Ratchet stopped his pacing around the room, something he invariable did when he lectured. "And one of the greatest of them is what medics have come to call spark synchronicity. Each spark has a unique… well, frequency for lack of better term, something that distinguishes one from every single other spark. Sometimes though, there are sparks whose frequencies are a perfect match for each other."

"Did you not just say that such frequencies are unique to each spark?" Prowl interjected, slightly confused.

"They are. In a scan, I would be able to distinguish between the sparks, they read just slightly different when separate, but I was taught that when two 'matched` sparks come close or merge to form a permanent bond, their frequencies synchronize in a way that makes them virtually indistinguishable. As strange as it sounds, in those moments they share this frequency, which for all intents and purposes means, they're one and the same. In short spark synchronicity means that the two sparks are perfect matches in every way that matters."

That was all very interesting and Prowl intended to read up on it later, but there was still one question that had not been answered. "What does this have to do with what I feel?"

"That pull you feel, that fluttery sensation, that's your spark synchronizing with that of another as well as it can with all the distance between them." Ratchet eyed the shocked black and white, then grinned in a way that made Prowl want to hide. "Congratulations, Your Highness, you have met your perfect sparkmate."

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Optimus was ecstatically happy for Prowl, and had immediately offered to help him find the bot who was Prowl's other half. Sharing spark synchronicity with Elita-1 he knew what Ratchet's declaration meant, how fulfilling a connection like that was. He couldn't help but wish the same for Prowl.

So he was astonished when Prowl refused his help and asked him not to tell anyone, but Optimus figured that Prowl would have to get used to the idea first. Meanwhile he would quietly check who Prowl had been working or talking with lately. Maybe he would be able to find the mech or femme, though he had a sneaking suspicion that Prowl already knew.

Never mind though, as a caring older brother it was his duty to grab the bot and threaten dire consequences should said bot ever hurt Prowl in any way. What kind of brother would he be if he neglected to do that?

Optimus smirked.

XXXXX

Once again the prince and the jester worked side by side in Prowl's garden. Jazz was still amazed that he had been granted that particular privilege. If there was one thing he had learned about this place it was that no one was allowed to enter without permission, and certainly not to tinker with the Praxian's crystals. It was an enormous show of trust and affection on Prowl's part.

All the while they entertained themselves discussing philosophy and history or Jazz told outrageous stories about life in the city (some of it had to be made up, Prowl was sure of it, but he couldn't tell which… the way Jazz delivered those anecdotes they sounded so sincere and real). This time was no different.

"You are jesting." Prowl accused him.

"Course Ah am," Jazz replied glibly, "'s what Ah do."

Golden optics narrowed. "A poor choice of words maybe, but my sentiment remains the same. So let me see if I got this straight: This thief was new to the city, and after careful consideration not only picked an enforcer bar as the target, but also chose to conduct said robbery when it was filled with enforcers."

"Yep."

"And he failed to notice their presence." A flat tone of stark disbelief coloured Prowl's voice.

"Ya got it." The grin on Jazz's face got even broader if it was in any way possible.

"That I could deal with, if it was not for the fact that you also wish for me to believe that he forgot to remove the safety and load his gun. Who could possibly be that stupid?" The doorwinger could feel his battle computer being seconds away from going into overdrive and fritz.

"Maybe he did it on purpose…" Jazz mused.

"Why?" Prowl looked at Jazz aghast. Belatedly he noticed the way the silver frame was shaking with suppressed laughter… "Why you!"

Outright laughing Jazz jumped up and ran away, promptly followed by the black and white who tried to catch him mock- growling. They chased each other through the garden for a while before collapsing underneath one of the trees, their cooling fans whirring. Quietly smiling to himself, Prowl basked in the presence of the silver mech, while he wondered about what Ratchet had told him about spark synchronicity more than two decacycles ago. Ever since then he and Jazz had met every single day without fail, even if it was just for a couple of hours. He simply could not stop thinking of what the medic had said. A spark that was the perfect match to his in every conceivable way… What did this all mean?

His companion's musical voice interrupted his musings. "What Ah wouldn't give for some of those cookies now…"

"I beg your pardon?" Prowl wanted to be sure he heard correctly, considering that he had not been paying attention.

"Just daydreaming 'bout the best cookies on the face of Cybertron," Jazz explained, "Ah know Heatspot's makin' some for this evening."

After a few seconds of consideration, Prowl offered, "I could send for some of them, if you wish to."

"That's sweet of ya Prowler, but Ah doubt even ya'd get any 'fore she deems them ready." The jester laughed. "Pit, Ah bet she'd even send Prime away, if he'd come ta ask."

Prowl blinked. "Still we could try. In the meantime I have some cubes of energon…" As the black and white made to get up from his seat on the ground, a silver servo grasped his own and stopped him from leaving.

Jazz was grinning in a way that could only be described as truly devious. "Let's go get some."

Confused, Prowl frowned. "But you just said that Heatspot is saving those cookies for dinner. The way you described her in your previous tales, she is never going to part with any of them, not even for us."

The jester chuckled. "That's why we're gonna sneak in and steal some!" the silver mech was rubbing his servos together in anticipation.

Golden optics wide, Prowl sputtered. "But…but we cannot do that!"

"Why not?" Jazz asked, grinning. "Come on, Sparkles, it's gonna be fun."

"Do you have a deactivation wish?" The young prince couldn't believe Jazz was seriously proposing they snitch cookies from the only femme in the whole city to rival Ratchet's infamous temper… and his aim, only she didn't throw wrenches. Instead she had, at least according to Jazz's and the twins' tales, what he considered to be an unnatural relationship with her rolling pin… "If she catches us, we are doomed!"

"Not if we're fast and sneaky enough, Prowler." Jazz pointed out so reasonably Prowl had to refrain himself from strangling him. "An' somethin' about your name suggests ya're actually good at this kinda thing, when ya put that diabolical processor of yours to it. Ah seem ta recall ya having told me about partnerin' up with Siders now and then. And yet, ya never were caught."

Well, Jazz was right about that. "I still remain unconvinced. Besides everyone will recognize me." The thought bothered Prowl. He couldn't just go around and play pranks (openly), he was supposed to be a good example to the bots he helped rule!

"Not if ya wear this." In a single fluid motion, Jazz detached his visor from his face and placed it over Prowl's optics. The jester paused to look. For some reason he really liked the thought of Prowl wearing something of his, and he did look gorgeous with it too.

Confused, Prowl's servos rose up to touch the new accessory to his looks. "Do you really think this will work?" He sounded dubious.

"Ya really look different with it. And ya've been mucking about in the garden, so ya don't look very much like a noble right now. 'Sides, bots only see what they expect ta see."

"Alright," Prowl consented, hard pressed to keep from smiling. "Let's go, before I remember that I am supposed to be an adult."

"Sweet!" Jazz exclaimed. Not waiting for any further response he suddenly grabbed Prowl by the waist and, pulling the smaller bot close to him, clambered up the wall without any difficulty. Whooping with joy, Jazz jumped down the other side, laughing as Prowl threw his arms around the silver mech's neck and actually swore at him.

"Come on, Sparkles, let's go steal some cookies!" Taking Prowl's hand in his, he led the way to the kitchens.

Servo in servo they made their way to Heatspot's domain, passing busy servants and messengers. Sometimes Jazz was spotted by someone he knew and waved to them, but didn't stop to talk to anyone, instead dragging Prowl with him.

The doorwinger was busy watching a side of the palace he had never laid optics on before. The hustle and bustle of mechs and femmes going about their business, singing to themselves or shouting instructions at each other, telling jokes and laughing was so different from the quiet, stately air he was used to. It was lively and loud, and became even more so, the closer they came to the part of the palace that housed only the servants' quarters and courts and the palace kitchens and stables.

The excitement of what they were doing was getting to the black and white. He wouldn't admit it if asked but he really enjoyed sneaking about the palace with Jazz without being recognized. Both of them giggled like sparklings about to do exactly what their parents had forbidden them to do.

Soon enough the delicious smells and the loud clanging of pots and other cutlery told Prowl where exactly the kitchen was, even though he had never been there before, not even in his few adventures with Sideswipe. Peeking around a conveniently placed pile of crates the two would-be thieves watched the small courtyard in front of the door leading to the red and yellow cook's domain.

Several sets of windows faced the little courtyard. Through them the two miscreants caught the occasional glimpses of one of the cooks or their helpers, hurrying about the kitchen, shouting orders and requests, carrying trays and tablets and plates to and fro.

"So how exactly do we go about this? We will hardly be able to just walk in and get some of the cookies and walk out without being noticed." Prowl whispered.

"Ah know exactly how ta do this, Ah've done it before." Jazz replied, his visor gleaming with mischief. "When the goodies are finished the cooks place the baking sheets on the window sills to cool down. We'll sneak in close and snatch a few when they ain't lookin'."

"You make it sound like it is the easiest thing in the world…" There was a slight note of doubt in the prince's voice.

"It is, Ah've done it dozens of times." Jazz waved a servo in a reassuring gesture.

"Does this not mean that the cooks will be on the lookout for you?" Prowl inquired.

"They're tryin', but they're way ta busy ta pay close attention. We just have ta wait for the right moment. Trust me, it's gonna be easy."

Still not entirely convinced, Prowl remained watchful, always checking that nobody saw them. It was strangely exhilarating. Soon their moment came in the form of a baking sheet full of deliciously smelling cookies being placed on a window ledge close to them by none other than the head cook Heatspot herself. As if she knew they were there, she cast a look around the courtyard, nodding to herself in satisfaction when she saw no one (Prowl and Jazz had taken care to remain hidden from view).

After a couple of breems the silver jester motioned for Prowl to follow him and watch out for other bots and slowly the pair crept toward the window, sidling closer to their goal. Soon they was sitting directly underneath the window ledge.

If anyone in the kitchen had paid more attention they could have seen a silver servo appearing from outside, its fingers feeling around until they accidentally touched the still hot baking sheet, twitching away for a moment, before snatching a cookie and disappearing from view again.

But fortunately for Jazz no one had been looking.

Unfortunately for Jazz however, the spoils he was now sharing with the black and white had left a noticeably empty space on the baking sheet…

The two perpetrators knew nothing of their impending doom as they quickly subspaced the majority of the said spoils, each keeping two to eat while they were still warm.

Prowl couldn't keep the silly little grin from tugging at his lips. He felt a little silly but he actually enjoyed the thrill of the adventure even as they retreated back the way they came so they would not be caught.

But alas, it was not to be…

A cry of indignation caught their attention. Turning around they were presented with a scary sight: Heatspot stood in the door with her rolling pin raised in one servo, looking around for the perpetrators. Suddenly her head whipped around and she turned her beady eyes on the couple.

"Oh Primus," Prowl whispered.

"Ah agree." He gulped as the cooks optics narrowed and she advanced into their direction. At that moment Jazz remembered that he and Prowl were still holding one cookie each…

"I think an expeditious foray into rearward space is in order." Prowl murmured in his accomplice's direction, as he took a few steps backward.

Jazz nearly choked on the part of the cookie he was still munching when he heard, but stifled the laughter. "Ah agree."

And so the pair took off running, quickly followed by the enraged cook swinging her favourite tool and yelling abuse at them. "Come back here, you little thieves! I'll teach you to steal from my kitchen!"

"Faster!" Jazz shrieked and, speeding up, grabbed Prowl's servo once again so they wouldn't be separated. Dodging around other mechs and femmes their passing was followed by occasional curses and crashes when the obstacles in their path didn't react fast enough or were bowled over by their pursuer. Careening around a corner they nearly ran into another unfortunate mech, who in fright threw his servos into the air… and with them the plate of cubes he was holding.

All of which promptly landed on the cook.

When they heard the splattering Prowl and Jazz turned around to look and saw Heatspot get up again, despite slipping on the cubes contents.

"Just how fast is this femme?" Prowl gasped. He would have to thank Ironhide for putting him through combat training again and again, or else Prowl would have dropped already.

"Don't know, but we gotta loose her!" Jazz sounded breathless, but not because he was getting tired… he just found it hard to suppress his laughter.

A howl made them turn again and run down another hallway, laughing as they raced around several corners. "Let's go hide, Sparkles."

"Hide where?" In answer Jazz directed him to the court they had reached just then and toward a smallish room that was practically hidden from sight by one of the pillars there. Anyone looking there would just see a shadow. It was barely a room, more a closet.

"You are not serious."

"Ya got a better idea?"

From not very afar they could hear Heatspot's approach. Taking that as their cue they bolted into the little hideout and waited until the red and yellow femme had passed, but not before stopping so close to them that for a moment they thought they'd be caught, especially when the femme growled.

The pair held their breath so she wouldn't notice them. So preoccupied where they that they didn't even realize how close they were pressed to each other, and that they were still holding servos. When she had finally continued on in another direction, both the jester and the prince let out sighs of reliefs before turning toward the other. Only then did they notice that there was virtually no air between their chassis'.

Both stilled completely, golden optics locking unto blue visor. Intakes held, they moved in unison, closing the distance between their lips ever so slowly. The outside world ceased to exist as all their senses and attention were trained on each other.

One of Jazz's servos came up to lightly rest on Prowl's hip, stroking it softly, while Prowl's free hand came up to rest over the silver plating that hid the jester's spark, making it spin in its chamber.

Their lips were so close now they almost touched, and Jazz prepared to lean closer to kiss the doorwinger in earnest…

… when a loud noise from outside their hideout made them jump apart. Apparently Heatspot had given up on her search and was now returning to her lair, grumbling and cursing under her breath unintelligibly, only the occasional word comprehensible to her surroundings.

Watching the head-cook retreat Jazz couldn't help but curse his ill luck. He had only been mere millimeters away from kissing Prowl, dammit! Millimeters. It had felt so wonderful, having Prowl's body in his arms, caressing that black and white plating… Shaking his head to dislodge that train of thought before his already warmed plating heated up even more, he snuck a look at his companion.

Prowl looked so adorable with his facial plating heated from embarrassment. And he was touching his lips, brushing them with his fingers. The sight almost made Jazz snatch Prowl and kiss him regardless, but he wanted to do it right and it wouldn't do to be interrupted again.

Peeking out from their hideout he ascertained that there was no one around and still holding Prowl's hand, motioned for the prince to follow him.

Quickly they snuck back to the black and white's garden, always on the watch for the cook, just in case she had decided to continue her pursuit.

Under their tree they both collapsed. One glance at each other was all it took for them to collapse into helpless laughter side by side.

"This…" Prowl gasped for air to cool down his systems, "was by far the most foolish thing I have ever done!"

"And the most fun, Ah hope." Jazz moved until he was resting on one of his elbows, smiling down at Prowl.

"That too." Prowl answered, a soft smile visible on his face. "Though I do hope you will not get into trouble for this, if she recognized you."

"An' ya won't get into trouble?" Jazz teased. "Ya stole as many of those cookies as Ah did."

"Yes, but no one will recognize me," Prowl replied impishly, a humorous tone to his voice, as he tapped the visor he was still wearing.

Slowly Jazz reached out to pluck the visor away so he could look into Prowl's real optics. The sight of Prowl wearing his visor was still strangely alluring, but it simply could not compare to the black and white's real optics. Without even realizing what he was doing he leaned closer, caught up in the moment and nuzzled Prowl's nose with his own.

Upon the silver mech's closeness to Prowl it felt for a moment as if his spark would jump out of his casing. It felt exactly like earlier that day. Holding his breath, he stilled completely. Mistaking the doorwinger's stillness for distress Jazz made to get up again, only for Prowl to pull him back down again, running his hands up Jazz's chest plates and wrapping them around the taller mech's neck.

Jazz leaned down until their lips almost touched, before he spoke up. "Ya sure about this, Prowl?"

What he was about to do broke every code of conduct of the Iaconian courts, but Prowl couldn't care less. He could not bring himself to pull away or ask Jazz to stop, not when this felt so right. The feeling in his spark drowned any other train of thought.

"Yes," he breathed.

As soon as the word had left his mouth Jazz leaned down and pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss. It was soft, slow, and as it lasted Prowl never wanted this moment to stop

To Be Continued

That's it for now… tell me what you think, please?


	6. Chapter 4II Meine Tochter Willst Du?

Chapter 4: Meine Tochter willst Du…

Part II

Author: Thalanee

Verse: AU Bayverse

Rating: pg-13

Word Count: 7800 words

Disclaimer: Still not mine, sorry, I only write about them for the fun of it.

Other Characters: Blaster, Optimus, Twins, OC Specter

Warnings: none for this chapter

Summary: After finally admitting their feelings for each other, their troubles only just begin.

Author's Notes: Here's the promised second part of the fourth chapter… It took abysmally long and I'm still not entirely happy with this, but I hope the wait was worth it anyway. Thank you all for your patience!

XXXXX

Vorn Year

Orn Month

Deca-Cycle Week

Cycle Day

Joor Hour

Breem Minute

Klick Second

XXXXX

"…z, Jazz!" There was a short pause, before the speaker yelled even louder, uncomfortably close to one of the silver audios. "JAZZ!"

Flailing, Jazz jumped up to an impressive height, before whirling around to look at the offending mech. His optics were greeted with a very familiar looking red chassis topped by the very concerned features of his best friend. Looking a little closer he also noticed the traces of exasperated amusement in the other's optics.

Right now, the musician and the entertainer were supposed to go over the plans for the next cycle's banquet. For that reason they had retreated to the sound studio the court had equipped for that very reason and of course, to give the artists a place to practice and perfect their performances, tune their instruments and generally just hang out with each other. There as a large and well-lit common area with tables, chairs and sofas for everyone to sit comfortably, even an energon dispenser, a mixing room, a miniaturized theatre for the actors, a practice room for the dancers and acrobats, showers to get clean and even some small living quarters for bots who didn't have their own place in the city or were just on tour, with Iacon as a temporary stop on their itinerary.

Currently Jazz and Blaster were the only bots present and awake. Steeljaw was passed out on the couch and Eject and Rewind were… well, Blaster didn't want to think too closely about the mayhem the cassette twins were most likely causing at that very moment. Besides, Jazz behavior was much more concerning.

"You didn't hear a single thing, did you." It was clearly a statement, not a question. Blaster gave his friend a pointed look before snorting. "So, mech or femme?"

Jazz gave him a deer in the headlights look. "What?"

"The bot you're daydreaming about with that silly grin all over your face, is it a mech of a femme?"

"How did ya- I mean, what makes ya think I'm daydreamin' 'bout someone?" The entertainer almost literally flailed his arms around. He didn't think he'd been that obvious really. Besides, neither Prowl nor he had any idea how they were going to go about telling their families about each other (they hadn't even talked about it yet… but he was pretty sure they didn't want it to happen through the grapevine. His carrier would smother him!)

The musician tried hard not to laugh at his friend, yet he couldn't help smirking. "Ya space out at tha oddest of times grinning like a fool, ya give these sighs now and then, and after certain times of tha day when ya've probably been visiting your sweetspark ya have that dopey look on your face and walk around as if ya're high. In short ya're actin' like a love- sick mechano-puppy. And those are only tha most obvious signs. Shall I go on about tha ridiculously sappy love songs you've started ta write?"

Visor spazzing in different colours, Jazz sputtered wordlessly, before sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. Denial seemed a little pointless now. "Have I really been that obvious?"

"To someone who knows what to look for, yeah, ya have. Any ya still haven't answered ma question. Mech or femme?"

"Mech..." Jazz said before falling silent again.

Blaster leaned forward expectantly, waiting for more. When nothing was offered he stopped short. "Aw, come on, Jazz-man, tell meh more about him."

There was the smallest hesitation on Jazz's part, but he knew Blaster as his best friend would keep quiet without even needing to be asked. "He's smart, he's funny with that dry, understated kind of humor that has me in stitches and he can be really playful when he wants ta be," Jazz added, remembering their adventurous encounter with the head cook. "Sometimes he's really shy, but that makes him all tha more adorable. We share a love for music," true also, the silver mech loved to hear the Praxian sing and Prowl in turn couldn't get enough of Jazz's tunes, had even helped with some of his new compositions, "we dance and we care for his garden tagether. I could happily spend tha rest of my life wit'him." While he had known this all along, saying it out loud, made it feel all the more real. The fact that his spark was spinning in its casing at the mere thought of his doorwinger he chose to keep to himself.

"Sounds like ya met ya perfect mate. Congratulations, mech!"

And there was that silly grin again. Honestly, you had to be both dumb and blind not to realize that Jazz was helm over pedes in love. "I have, thank ya, Blaster."

"Do Ah know him?"

"Not really, no." Was it his imagination or had Jazz sounded slightly evasive? Why wouldn't he want to talk about his sweetspark?

"Where did ya meet him then? Out in tha city?" Blaster was determined to find out who exactly had managed to snare the elusive jester. Of course he had his suspicions, but he wanted to be sure he was right.

Jazz really didn't want to lie to his friend, but he knew, and he knew that Prowl would agree if asked, that they needed to plan carefully before telling their, or more accurately Prowl's family, about each other. "No, we met in his garden kind of by accident."

"What'cha mean by accident?"

"I kind'a went where I'm not supposed to go and ended up in that walled garden, that belongs ta him."

Jazz had never seen Blaster look so puzzled before. He sounded the part too. "How the frag do ya accidentally break into someone's home?"

"I didn't break into his home, I accidentally got into the garden."

"Wait, back up, you mean one of the palace gardens?!" Squirming Jazz nodded, causing Blaster to lean back and stare at his friend in apprehension. "Tha garden ya were going ta look for a couple of deca-cycles ago?" Again, the only answer was an embarrassed nod. "So, I guess that's why ya still haven't told me his name, because he's a noble right?"

"Yes, he is."

"…Frag."

"Come on, he's not like those other nobles, whose egos are so big they hardly fit into tha palace, he's… different. He doesn't mind hard work or gettin' dirty, he doesn't frown at anyone just because they were born into another caste. He dislikes tha caste system as much as I do, and where he comes from it doesn't even exist-" Jazz stopped himself from rambling on in defense of Prowl.

"Ah'm takin' that for granted, ah know ya well enough ta know ya wouldn't fall that hard for some arrogant snob, but Iacon is Iacon. Even if he wasn't born here, he lives here, so Ah'm guessin' he's got family in Iacon?" Waiting for Jazz to confirm this with a short gesture he continued. "If they're typical of Iacon, they're neva gonna accept someone like ya as their creation's mate. Ya've seen how religiously they stick to tha caste system, an' in their optics, ya're not just one caste lower, ya're from the other end, mech. They'll prolly do anything ta get ya ta leave him alone. The least they'll do is just separate tha two o'ya, if ya're lucky."

"I know, Blaster." Jazz growled uneasily.

"They could have ya thrown inta jail or exiled from the realm, mech!" He didn't mean to decry this for his friend, but Jazz had to know what he was getting into. Friends had to look out for each other.

"Ya think I don't know it's not gonna be easy?" Jazz burst out, pacing around in agitation. Just the thought of loosing Prowl to something as random and unimportant as an accident of birth (and that was what the caste system was) made his spark clench in pain. There was no way he was going to let that happen! "But he's worth the trouble and he wants this as much as I do. I won't leave him, no matter what anyone says or thinks."

Raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, Blaster tried to placate him. "Ah wasn't tryin' ta convince ya ta break it off wit'him, Ah just want ya ta be sure 'bout this. Ya're ma friend."

"I am sure." Blaster could see the steely resolve in the other's visor, in his whole posture. No. Jazz wouldn't back down from this no matter what happened, that much was obvious to anyone who cared to look.

"In that case, Ah'll help ya, just say tha word."

"Thanks, Blaster." Relieved, Jazz enveloped Blaster in a crushing hug, which the red mech returned without second thought. He would help his friend, because if his suspicions were correct and Jazz was after the mech he thought he was (there weren't that many nobles from places without the caste systems who lived in Iacon, had their own private garden and more importantly, were constantly being not so surreptitiously gazed at by Jazz whenever he appeared in court), the silver mech would need all the help he could get…

XXXXX

Blades of grass rustled as the turbofox darted through the underbrush of the forest, knowing exactly which way he had to run to make the most of the little edge he had. His deceptively slender legs and paws propelled him forth at surprising speed. Every now and then his orange and white armour could be glimpsed before he vanished from view again.

Someway behind him the bigger and stronger cyberhounds stayed on the wild-bot's trail despite all the animals attempts at shaking the pursuit. While the fox was faster, the hounds had been built for stamina and sooner or later they would catch up with the unfortunate animal. Even if he dodged the hounds, the hunters following in the wake of the pack would try and catch him regardless.

Still the fox soldiered bravely on, putting all his effort in trying to reach one particular spot in the forest, a large crevice, carved out of the metallic ground by a small river, too large to jump over and impossible to cross but for the fallen branch of a near crystal tree balancing over it precariously. It was just sufficiently big for the fox to cross over, but not strong enough to carry the weight of a larger mechanoid being. The versatile animal had escaped predators before by using this trick, and it would do so again. Up ahead he smelled the tang of the river's water and he picked up speed to the baying of the pack alerting their masters to the trail, only to stop short.

One of the hunters stood directly in front of him, between the little animal and its path of escape. Baring its small but sharp teeth at the large bot in preparation of the inevitable fight, the fox flared its armor to appear more threatening.

But the hunter didn't react. The black and white just looked at the crouching wild-bot, at the branch and then back at the woods, where the sounds of the hunting party drew closer. Then, slowly and deliberately, he stepped aside until the path was free. Warily, the fox looked at the unmoving form. He was now far enough away that the fox could dart up the branch and get away without getting caught, if he acted fast enough. Growling once more for good measure, the small animal moved into the direction of the branch cautiously, never letting its eyes stray from the black and white mech.

Once it was close enough, it picked up speed and was on the branch and soon reached the far side of the chasm, preening in triumph, before vanishing into the bushes, while back on the other side Prowl leisurely kicked the loose branch into the chasm, destroying the bridge and thus eliminating the chance of the fox's scent being picked up. The trail would literally vanish into thin air.

Wings fluttering in satisfaction Prowl settled down to wait for the rest of the hunting party and allow the twins to catch up with him, before anyone noticed that he had slipped away once again.

If there was one thing Prowl disliked even more than having to listen to Councilor Swiftwind sing his own praises, it was to attend hunting parties. What was the point in gathering in large numbers and driving out into the small crystal wood near Iacon, there to converge on one hapless mechanimal and hunt it for joors, before finally catching the poor thing and even worse, kill it? At least when he was younger, he had often been able to convince Sentinel of setting whatever animal had fallen into the hunters' clutches free again (it was remarkable how quickly the great Sentinel Prime had caved when confronted with the large watery golden optics and drooping wings of his young charge… it hadn't taken Prowl long to perfect the kicked puppy-look and wield it with devastating effects), while now he had to resort to sneaking around and freeing the prey himself and mislead the hunters. Of course he could still use The Look, but it was hardly dignified. Also he had promised his brother not to abuse his powers…

He had yet to be caught in the act thanks to his battle computer and ability in tactics.

To the black and white it would have been preferable to just wander around the woods for a while and revel in the peace and quiet the surroundings offered to anyone who was willing to take the time to enjoy it. This was why the prince was always on the lookout for an opportunity to slip away, much to the aggravation of the twins, who stepped out of the woodworks as if Prowl's thoughts had summoned them.

"You know the Prime will have our heads if he realizes you always sneak around the woods without your bodyguards?" Sideswipe piped up, stepping closer to stand behind the prince and make it look as if they had been with him the whole time. When Prowl threw him a withering look, the silver twin grinned back completely unfazed. He was one of the very few bots who weren't left quacking in their pedes from the Looks the black and white prince had perfected despite his young age.

"He has not yet found out and he never will, unless you tell him," Prowl pointed out, cocking an optic ridge in the direction of the silver warrior, who still remained completely unimpressed, at least if the cheeky grin on his face was anything to go by.

Sideswipe raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, as the trio started walking in the direction of the ever increasing noise heralding the arrival of the rest of the party. "Just sayin'. Aren't you the bot who always tells us that even with the perfect plan something will go wrong sooner or later."

"Indeed, and it is gratifying to see that you were actually listening." The dry remark prompted a snort from Sunstreaker, who was walking in front of the bickering duo, always ready to be the first in line in the event of an attack on their charge.

Indignant, Sideswipe puffed up his armor slightly in a show of fake wounded pride. "Give me some credit. And you haven't answered my question yet."

Prowl had to work to keep his expression carefully neutral as he watched the hunters' confusion over the mysterious disappearance of their prey, puzzling over the reason the hounds all milled around a single spot near the chasm instead of following the fox's trail. "Now why would I tell you all of my trade secrets? Besides, having you worry is keeping you on your toes, Sideswipe." There was an unmistakable glint in those golden optics, even though his face gave away nothing.

Sideswipe wasn't fooled in the slightest though. He knew the enigmatic prince too well to be deluded by the apparent lack of reaction. He didn't know what Prowl had done, but he was willing to bet good credits that the black and white was somehow responsible for the absconded animal. "Trying to keep up with you is plenty enough to keep me on my toes."

No one impeded the group as they made their way to the centre of it, where the current and the future Prime were deep in conversation. The court's hunters and the dogs' handlers were still preoccupied trying to recover the lost track but to no avail, since the dogs couldn't get over their fascination with that spot and returned to it, whenever they were signaled to follow the trail. Idly Prowl wondered how long it would take anyone to notice the tell-tale scrape marks the crystal branch had left behind when he had kicked it into the chasm. "Not plenty enough, if Ironhide's curses yesterday were any indication."

Sideswipe flinched subtly. "You heard that?"

"Sideswipe, everyone in the family wing heard that. Everyone in the palace heard that. Might I suggest that you do not cut your timing as close as that next time? Had you been delayed in any way, your prepared alibi would have been for naught, because you would not have been back in time." A smug flutter of his doorwings accompanied the piece of advice

"How did you know that?!" The look on Sideswipe's face was one of comical horror. Sometimes Prowl couldn't help but wonder if Sideswipe exaggerated his own reactions on purpose for the amusement of others.

"Haven't you realized yet, that he knows everything?" Sunstreaker drawled, finally entering the conversation.

The other twin pointed at Prowl accusingly, ignoring his brother's smugness for the moment. "But you were busy all the time, you had private lessons and later you were holed up in your garden. How could you have found out about that?"

Prowl smirked. He was going to reply, when a movement at the corner of his vision attracted his attention. Another mech was approaching the trio and it looked as if he would reach them before they reached the Prime. Not bothering to hide his scowl the prince accelerated his pace, having no wish to be in the new mech's presence. But it seemed he had used up all of his good fortune for this cycle already, for no sooner had he veered off to avoid the newcomer he had to stop in order not to get run over by the pack of hounds whom their caretakers had finally lured away from the escarpment, which allowed the blue and white mech to catch up with the prince.

"Your highness, what a pleasure it is to be in your presence," the bowing mech all but purred in a manner that was probably meant to be complimentary, but that had Prowl's plating crawling in more than mild disgust. He was never more grateful for the presence of the twins than he was right then.

"Specter." As court protocol dictated, Prowl acknowledged the greeting with a slight nod, as it would not do to embarrass his Prime by forgetting his manners, but he would not give the noble any more than that. If Swiftwind was irritating, Specter was downright dangerous. The tall blue and white mech was far more intelligent than his fellow noble and far too good at getting what he wanted for his own business. What he could not get by manipulating others or outright tricking them, he acquired with his wealth. Privately Prowl suspected that not everything the noblemech's business methods were not exactly legal, but so far nothing had been proven. There had been accusations of course, but after investigations and the odd process or two, Specter had always come out of it above reproach.

And as if this wasn't bad enough already, the noblemech seemed to concentrate all of his efforts and resources on one thing: arranging a bonding between his own son, Mirage, and Prowl. Or between himself and Prowl. Sometimes the Praxian wasn't quite sure which.

To Mirage's defense, the young mech seemed to be of a different make than his creator, yet that didn't mean Prowl would ever consider bonding to him. Much to Prowl's relief Sentinel was just as leery of Specter and his attentions as Prowl himself was and so had dismissed any overtures. That still didn't deter the bot from trying though.

"Your presence was sorely missed during last orn's festivities. We were sorely disappointed to hear that you would be unable to come."

"Matters of the state always take precedence, as I am sure you understand," Prowl replied in a level voice, his wings flicking sharply just once. In response to the gesture and the discomfort behind it, the twins inched closer to frame the smaller mech between them.

Specter bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Of course, you sense of duty to our state is only to be commended, your highness. Praxus shall count itself lucky to have you as its Lord."

The prince cocked an optic ridge at the statement. "That remains to be seen." While it was highly likely that he would ascend to the throne of High Lord, it was not written in cybertronium yet.

"You are referring to the trials? Such a quaint custom, to test the rightful leader before he claims the throne, as if it was their place to deny the rightful claim of the heir." The mech waved his hand in clear dismissal of an idea he obviously considered preposterous.

However the prince did not take well to the condescension directed toward a place and a people he had come to love during his visits there. "It is a custom that has served my home city well by ensuring that only those worthy of the title in every sense can lay claim to it. It would behoove a mech not to belittle what he does not know." Prowl's voice was colder than the ice poles of Cybertron as he rebuked the other.

His charming demeanour wavering at the thinly veiled rebuke, Specter bowed extravagantly once again. "I assure you, your highness, I meant no offence and I apologize sincerely for incurring your wrath."

:: I'm surprised he actually recognizes tha term:: A very welcome voice suddenly erupted from his comm channels, audible only to Prowl himself. Though he was adept at not letting bots see what he thought, hiding how badly startled Prowl was, took some doing.

:: Jazz? Where are you?:: Only his strict self- control kept him from scanning his surroundings in order to locate the errant jester he just knew was hiding somewhere close. Apparently his talents lent themselves to stealth very well.

:: Look behind him, Sparkles:: Doing as instructed Prowl sought for the familiar play of light on silver armor and found it. In the crystal trees. High up in the branches of one of the tallest and thickest crystals the jester hung upside down from a branch, merrily waving at him once he was sure that Prowl was looking at him.

:: How can you even hear what he is saying?::

:: My audios are sensitive, real sensitive, I can hear ya both as clearly as if I were standin' next ta ya.::

Unaware that he had lost all of the prince's attention the noblemech continued to drone on. "Surely there is no doubt that your Highness will master these trials, you are a very capable mech after all. If I can be of assistance to you in any way, you need only ask and my every move is yours to command, though I am confident that such will not be necessary. Still it would please me greatly to have been of service to the future High Lord of Praxus."

:: Ya know, if ya put your mind ta it, I'm pretty sure ya could make him sit up and beg.:: Prowl couldn't actually see it, but somehow he knew there was a wicked grin plastered on Jazz's face.

The doorwinger couldn't suppress the ghost of a smile the image Jazz had painted just evoked. Unfortunately Specter took it to mean his advances were welcome, and spouting another courtly phrase took Prowl's servo in order to press a kiss to it.

Instantly the black and white snatched the appendage back, hissing at the noble mech as his armor and wings flared aggressively. "You presume too much, Lord Specter."

"It seems I must apologize once again, your Highness. I am deeply sorry to have offended you."

:: Oh, he ain't sorry yet, but he's gonna be!:: Jazz snarled over the comm. It was hard to tell from so far away but Jazz's visor seemed to be black with anger.

"Your apology is accepted. Please, do not let me detain you any longer." Pointedly turning away to look toward another part of the clearing, Prowl dismissed the other from his company.

Specter took it with a certain equanimity, bowing extravagantly once again. "By your leave, your Highness." He recited the courtly phrase with a flourish many other bots admired and envied him for. To Prowl it rang false.

A tiny breath of relief escaped him as soon as the other noblemech departed, but the twins didn't relax their tense stance.

:: Are ya alright or do I need ta break out the pink paint?::

:: I am fine as you very well know. I shall take a few breems to reassure the twins before I can sneak away to meet you.::

:: I'll keep myself occupied.:: A certain amount of mischief directed at Spectre was conveyed along with the glyphs. Prowl knew better than to try and dissuade the jester when he was that determined, but if Jazz got into trouble they would not be able to meet, so despite his own desire to see what Jazz would do he asked him to wait, not relenting until he had the silver mech's word.

Now that their protective instincts had been aroused it had been difficult even for the tactically savvy Praxian to ditch his bodyguards, but with a host of experience and his ingenuity to draw from he soon left the two behind. Again.

Whilst the twins were busy scouring the camp for their charge, the black and white was getting farther away from the camp with every klick soon joined by a silver mech.

"I was beginning ta think ya wouldn't be able ta get rid of tha twins at all." Jazz was advancing on Prowl, trying to hug the other to him, only for Prowl to dart away staying just out of reach. Jazz looked at Prowl imploringly, one of his hands reaching for him.

"Thank you for your vote of confidence, Jazz," Prowl deadpanned, silently challenging Jazz to catch him if he could.

Never one to dismiss a challenge the jester grinned and did his best to get his hands on the subject of his desires. Laughing like a couple of younglings they raced around the clearing, only having optics for each other.

Little did they realize that they were being watched.

XXXXX

Optimus relished this moment. It was only rarely that he had the time to be alone with himself and his thoughts and enjoy the scenery in peace. Step after step led him away from the hunting party and deeper into the woods. A light breeze moved some of the lighter crystal clusters to rustle, causing a musical tinkling sound. The scent of the wild crystal trees and bushes was invigorating. Somewhere off to the left a flock of turbobirds was warning away the intruder. It was invigorating.

Watching the play of light and shadows around him Optimus resolved to take Elita with him soon, so they could enjoy the tranquility together. He knew she would enjoy it as much as he did.

Busy planning their future outing Optimus returned his attention to what he was actually here for: looking for his younger brother. Somehow Prowl had, very true to his name, snuck away without anyone the wiser as to where he was going. No one had realized yet, and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, after pinging Prowl's comm. signal had only resulted in a very politely phrased version of "Leave me alone" as an answer, had felt the need to tell someone. Theoretically they should have informed the Prime first, not the crown prince, but telling Sentinel would probably have resulted in trouble and lectures, and that was the last thing the three wanted for Prowl right now. The black and white seemed to have enough on his plate already.

For that reason Optimus had sent Ironhide and Kup, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker out to quietly look for the errant prince and bring him back before the Prime realized he had disappeared on his own. Optimus himself had struck out on his own, too. Maybe he would be lucky.

Ruefully chuckling to himself, the red and blue mech had to admit that if Prowl didn't want to be found, he really knew how to stay under the radar. So far he hadn't found plating nor paint of the black and white doorwinger.

He was ready to give up on searching in this direction when his audios picked up a faint sound. Deciding to investigate Optimus turned into the direction it came from and soon came to a clearing. Abruptly he stopped, not believing his optics. He rebooted them and looked again, but the scene hadn't changed at all.

Optimus had found Prowl.

But the Praxian wasn't alone.

There was another mech, with a silver frame and a blue visor, chasing after his little brother. His first instinct was to charge into the clearing and come to the black and white's aid, but all processing ground to a halt as he realized that Prowl was openly laughing. Not just smiling that barely there smile of his, but outright laughing with the silver mech running after him. He recognized the action for the game it was, especially when Prowl finally decided that enough was enough and slowed just a little so the taller mech could wrap his arms around him.

The mech was holding Prowl in his arms, stroking his cheek. Whatever the mech said, it made Prowl smile and sink into the embrace even more, not resisting when the taller mech leaned down to kiss the prince. And Prowl didn't turn away, instead he looped his arms around the others neck and returned the kiss. Transfixed, Optimus watched the two. Prowl was openly smiling, his doorwings fluttering. He had never seen his younger brother so happy.

So this was the mech that had captured Prowl's spark.

He appeared friendly enough, Optimus concluded after watching the couple interact for a few moments, and also somewhat familiar. Soon enough he realized he had seen the other mech before, at court to be precise, but not among the nobles. It took him only a second until he remembered where exactly he had seen the silver mech before and immediately felt like hitting himself. So _he_ was what had Prowl so distracted at that court dinner before that fateful visit to medbay.

Unwilling to disturb the couple, Optimus silently melted back into the underbrush, settling in to wait for as long as it took. He would talk to Prowl later, once they were back at the palace. But first he had to corner a certain silver mech…

While Optimus retreated a few steps to give the couple some privacy (still staying close enough to intervene should the silver mech decide to overstep some boundaries, that was his little brother over there in the clearing after all), the two oblivious bots kissed on.

XXXXX

Reveling in each others' presence and closeness, neither of them wanted to be anywhere else. Even so, their time together was limited, which made those moments all the more precious to them.

Prowl couldn't help the way his wings fluttered when he was being held. It felt nice to be able to let go, not to have to be in control of himself and his surroundings all the time, knowing there was someone who would catch him, shield him, cherish him even when he couldn't be perfect.

A sound from the distance shattered the peace. It was a signal from the royal hunting party, bidding all its members return to the camp.

Reluctantly they parted from their embrace, but both knew that Prowl would have to return now, so his absence would not raise any suspicions. As much as they wanted to be together, if they were discovered now, Sentinel would not hesitate to separate them at once.

"Will I see you in the garden again this evening?" Prowl asked, his voice conveying how much he craved to be able to meet again. Jazz could not understand why some bots called the prince emotionless or stoic to the point of being cold. If one listened or watched closely, his emotions were there to see in the movements of his wings and in the sound of his voice.

"As soon as practice is over and I can give the others the slip I'll be there, Sparkles, I promise. Wouldn't dream of missing it." The jester sealed his promise with a playful kiss to the tip of Prowl's nose, almost laughing at the adorable expression on the other's face. But then everything about Prowl was adorable to him… Primus, he'd really fallen hard for the black and white.

Stepping away slowly, they held onto each other with their servos until they absolutely had to let go, before Prowl turned and walked to the edge of the clearing.

Grinning happily Jazz watched every one of Prowl's movements, waving enthusiastically when Prowl turned back into his direction once and smiled upon seeing the jester watching him. He waited until the black and white was completely out of sight, before he readied himself for his return to the city. He was already late for his practice with Blaster, but the prospect of spending some time with Prowl was well worth a little hurry.

A song on his lips he turned into the direction he had come from only for the melody to cease abruptly when he came face to face with another mech. Jazz froze, instantly recognizing the other mech for who he was. It would have been hard for him not to know the other's identity. Everyone in the kingdom knew the imposing frame and distinctive blue and red paintjob with its unique flame decals. Calm blue optics gazed at him knowingly as if their owner knew every facet of the silver mech's personality.

"So you are the mech who has captured my brother's spark." It was clearly an observation, not an inquiry. The smooth deep baritone of the blue and red mech had a compelling quality to it when he finally spoke.

Completely unashamed, Jazz answered honestly, returning the future Prime's gaze. "Yes, your highness."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have your silver aft thrown out of the city to separate the two of you permanently." A note of steel rang in the future Prime's voice as he regarded Jazz with narrowed optics.

Jazz bristled at the words, his visor flashing dangerously. "'Cause it would hurt Prowl if ya did. I love him and I won't let anyone hurt him like that." His claws flexed in an unconscious movement.

Optimus had caught the subtle movement and was looking at the smaller mech pointedly. "Prowl is a grown mech and a capable warrior. He hardly needs you to protect him, jester."

Jazz sniffed. "Prowl may not need a protector, but he needs someone who accepts and loves him for what he is."

"And what is he to you?" Optimus inquired calmly.

The answer came without thinking, without pause. "The other half ta my spark, the one I'd do anythin' for. I know he appears cold sometimes, but that ain't who he is at the core. Prowl's one of the most caring bots I've ever met even if he doesn't like to show it. Thanks to that combined wit' his keen sense of duty and discipline ya have a very self sacrificin' mech who'd do anything ta keep the ones he loves safe no matter tha personal cost. He's reserved to the point of bein' shy, which only makes him even more sweet, and he's possibly the smartest bot on Cybertron." A smile softened the expression on Jazz's face before it hardened again with resolve when he stepped closer to the tall mech, to make sure the other knew he meant every word. "The hardest workin' to. He deserves ta be happy and I'm gonna make sure he is, even if I have ta get past ya and the whole of Cybertron."

Optimus nodded, if not in agreement, then at least to acknowledge the mech's speech. "Personally I am inclined to believe you, but I am a bot and bots err. There are many who would like to call Prowl their bonded just because of his status and titles."

"I don't care about that. Ya Iacon bots are so stuck in yar caste system, that ya've lost all sense of proportion, of what's really important. Money doesn't buy me happiness, and social status doesn't get me real friends." He pointed toward his chestplates. "Spark is what counts. So wit' all due respect, your highness, but what happens between Prowler and me ain't none of your business. We're both grown mechs and we love each other, rank and politics ain't got nothing to do with it."

"And in the event that Prowl would fail at the trials…" Optimus' voice trailed off meaningfully.

"I'd still stay with him. I'll follow him wherever he goes, Praxus or not." What would it take to make the future Prime see that he meant what he said? There was an air of white dignity about him that even his father could not pull off. Something about him drew Jazz in, made him wish for the other's approval. Despite his misgivings about Iacon society, Jazz felt that this was a mech he could follow. Maybe Cybertron's was about to change a lot.

His facial expression remained stern, unrelenting. "So you say, jester."

"My name is Jazz, your majesty. I know that nothing I can say will convince ya if ya choose not ta believe me. But even if ya never do, even if no one does, I'll stick wit' Prowler as long as he wants me around. The only one who could send me away is him."

Finally Optimus smiled at the smaller. "We are in agreement then. That was all I wanted to hear. Still, should I ever get so much as an inkling that your sentiments are false, that you are hurting my brother, be assured that I will not hesitate to take steps." His voice never rose in anger, remaining steady and calm, though there was no mistaking the threat contained in it. Jazz could respect that wish to protect, since he more than shared it. Nodding, he accepted the warning.

For a moment it looked as if Optimus was going to say, but once more the sound of a horn rent the air and a more forceful ping rang along broad band comms of the area. To Jazz's everlasting astonishment they parted with a handshake, a greeting between to equals, instead of Optimus just turning and leaving.

Well, it seemed as if he and Prowl would have at least one supporter if he read Optimus right. The mech was still cautious, but at least he was open to the idea that Jazz wasn't just after Prowl's titles and wealth.

Meanwhile, on his way back to the camp, Optimus went over his conversation with Jazz again. He would make some discreet inquiries to be safe, but he had a feeling, no he was sure they would prove not to have been necessary. There had been no deception in the jester's field or optics. He might not have the matrix yet, but he trusted his intuition and it told him the silver mech could be trusted.

Yet it also told him that their troubles had only just begun.

XXXXX

They were a study in contrast, but each impressive in their own right. Where one was streamlined and sleek giving the impression of speed even when he was driving slowly, the other exuded power thanks to his bulk and strong lines. Even their colour schemes couldn't have been more different: one simple and elegant in black and white with the occasional red or gold highlight, while the other's red and blue colouring seemed designed to draw attention. Never were those contrasts between the two princes more obvious then when they drove side by side like they did then.

The hunting party was on its way back to the palace, everyone driving back in vehicle mode. The convoy consisted of several smaller groups of vehicles in all shapes and sizes. One such groups was made up of Optimus and Prowl, with their respective pair of guards surrounding them to make sure that if anyone tried to reach the princes, they would have to go through the warriors first. Their group had fallen back a little, since both princes were determined to enjoy the drive for as long as they could. They also had no desire to be drawn into the rather lively discussions going on over who was the best hunter, whose hounds were the fastest and fiercest, etc.

It also allowed them to talk to one another without any bot eavesdropping on their conversation, whether on purpose or by accident. The future Prime opted not to wait longer and drove closer to his brother.

"I had a very interesting encounter while I was looking for you, by the way." Optimus spoke up. Somehow he felt that what he planned to talk about needed the weight of actual words, not signals over a comm. Because however this conversation ended, it was important.

"You did?" Prowl's tone of voice was perfectly neutral.

"Indeed. I met a mech from court in a clearing. I think you know him." The older brother prodded gently, making sure their voices were pitched so they were only audible to the two of them, but drowned in the sound of their engines, or rather Optimus', since Prowl's ran very silently (there was a reason the Praxian was named Prowl, after all).

"There are many mechs in this hunting party I know from court. All of them, to be precise. You will have to elaborate, Optimus." Not even a hint of the apprehension Prowl was beginning to feel was to be heard.

"He was silver in colour, and among his more memorable features are a dark blue visor and spiky helm fins…"

Was it the blue and red mech's imagination or had Prowl swerved slightly on the road? "Optimus-,"

Now his younger brother had sounded rather off, so he rushed to reassure him, before Prowl could become too upset. Unfortunately his battle computer was very good at coming up with worst case scenarios among other things. "Don't worry, Prowl, I do not wish to get you into trouble. I just want to know why you didn't tell me about the mech you obviously love."

There was a pause before Prowl responded, clearly astonished. "How do you know?"

Had they been in mech form, Prowl would probably have been gaping. The thought made Optimus chuckle. "That you love him? I saw the two of you in the clearing and I talked to Jazz after you were gone. He rather impressed me, I have to admit. I was fully prepared kick his aft to the pit, but having met him, I can see why you fell in love with him."

"You are not angry?" Did Prowl even realize how plaintive he had sounded in that very moment? Most likely not. In addition, the truck was to some extent appalled that his brother thought he would resent him for falling in love with someone who was not of a noble caste. He would have to make sure Prowl understood that he would be there for him.

"Angry? Why should I be? You found your _sparkmate_, little brother, this is an occasion for rejoicing. Though I have to admit I'm somewhat disappointed that you didn't tell me." It stung a little, but he could understand why Prowl would be careful.

"I wanted to, but I was afraid you would not understand. After all, he hails from a much lower caste than we do."

"Do you really think I would have judged you both so harshly?" Optimus was slightly aghast. "You know I share your views about the caste system. It's rubbish, for Primus' sake!"

"My behavior was illogical, I am aware of that, but… " the smaller mech made a move to continue several times, but he paused every time, as if unsure what to say. Optimus knew that talking about emotions was a difficult subject for the other, who was more inclined toward logic and reason. He had a feeling he knew what bothered Prowl the most though.

"You feared to be separated, didn't you."

Prowl's engine whined almost imperceptively in distress. Swiftly and gently Optimus extended his own field to touch Prowl's and comfort him as if wrapping him in a soothing hug. He was gratified when Prowl sidled up closer to him and answered with a pulse of his own, returning the gesture. Neither of them made a move to separate from the other, Prowl enjoying the fact that he didn't have to hide from his brother anymore, and Optimus basking in the fact that the black and white was letting him fuss. The doorwinger was usually so reserved and self sufficient that he rarely sought out comfort anymore, as he had done when he was still a sparkling.

Checking his sensors he made sure that no one had seen or heard anything. Optimus went over what he had learned that day. There was only one thing left to be done really. "I don't know what I can do, but whatever happens, should you need my help, you need only ask."

"Thank you, brother." Prowl whispered, conveying his gratitude over their connection.

Content that they had resolved what they could, Optimus drove on. One small detail kept niggling at him though. "So how are the two of you going to tell father about this?"

"Beats me."

To Be Continued

Author's Notes II: The conversation between Jazz and Optimus is still not entirely right, but it's the best I could do for now and this already took long enough.

So what did you think?


End file.
